Reconstruction Destruction
by The Awesome Novice Writer
Summary: A wrecked economy. A desperate government. Out of control youths. Five schools. Twenty students. Six volunteers. One game. A modern day AU. SYOT closed.
1. Destruction

**Louisville, Kentucky**

He hadn't expected the day to turn to hell.

None of them did. He knew that if he could have seen it coming, he wouldn't have came to school today. That if he knew what were to occur as he sat in his desk and scratched carbon onto paper, he would have made some excuse on why he couldn't come in today. He would have called his friends and begged them not to go, and force them to tell everyone that they knew. He would have logged onto his computer and posted the warning, and would have wanted it to be spread like a fucking plague.

But none of that happened, and now they were trapped inside the school like lambs awaiting their slaughter by the wolves as they helplessly waited in the dark for their shepard to come and rescue them.

Looking at his class, he knew that it was too late for some of them.

Taking another look at one of the poor souls, a tall blond girl that had the upper left quadrant of her head blown off as blood, bone, and brain painted the desk behind her. Her friends by her side, crying in hysteria and what they had witnessed, despite the teacher's pleas for them to be quiet as to not draw attention to the class. Too late for that though, they had seen them, and even with the lights off and the blinds closed, they knew where they were.

Honestly, he wasn't really surprised that the group of girls weren't listening to instructions, because it was taking his everything to not cry himself. And though he was shaking, he was frozen nearly everywhere else.

Thinking back of how the whole thing had started, he knew that they should have acted sooner, and not have been so stupid. They shouldn't have let curiosity get the better of them. When the first gunshot had rang out, they shouldn't have wondered if someone had been setting off firecrackers within school grounds again. They shouldn't have waited for more gunshots to go and check the windows to see if someone really was setting off firecrackers.

If they hadn't checked, many of them wouldn't have been harmed by the storm of bullets that had been aimed at them. The bullets wouldn't have shattered the glass and sliced up hands and faces. But most of all, Haley Peters wouldn't have been shot in the head in front of everyone, only adding to the chaos that was a school shooting.

School shooting... The words continued to ring through his head as more and more gunshot echoed through the halls, accompanied by the screams of his peers and the shouts of the gunmen.

He didn't know how many there were, but from the bits of phone conversations that he heard from his classmates, he knew that there were at least five of them. One guarding each of the sides of the school, and at least one was inside the school massacring everyone. He guessed that there were more than just one person inside though.

They were scared, he didn't need to hear the sobs and the cursing, nor did he have to smell the acrid smell of piss to know that everyone was fearful for their lives. And as the gunmen continued their rampage, each gunshot getting closer and closer to him, he grew more and more terrified of what was to come.

He... Didn't want to die, but there was nothing that could be done. They couldn't go out into the halls and try to escape, unless they wanted to chance running into a hail of bullets. And they couldn't escape through the windows, unless they wanted to die like Haley did.

"It's fight or die," the voice of Chad Douglas, a member of the varsity team, spoke in a hushed tone. "They aren't going to let us escape alive, so we have to bring the fight to them."

"And how the hell are we supposed to that?" Another varsity member asked. "They've got guns and we're got, what? Pens and rulers?"

"We've got the element of surprise," Chad pointed out. "The lights are off and the shades are now down, so whoever is outside won't know what we're up to. Plus, with the desks blocking the door, we've got time before they barge in, and when they do, we grab the nearest fucker and take his gun and defend ourselves. We rush them and beat them into the ground before they even have a chance to fight back."

"That's god damn suicide, man. Unarmed students against guns. Out of your god damn mind."

"Well it's either that or have everyone else in this building get slaughtered. They're going room to room unchallenged, and it'll remain that way unless some of us grow some balls and stop them. Yes, it'll be suicide for some of us, but with enough of us fighting, they can't stop all of us. If we don't fight, we're dead anyway."

"He's right," Mr. Kelly, the teacher just getting into his thirties, stated. "We're all going to die if we do nothing, so we might as well do something. The police are on their way, but we can't count on them getting here on time. So we have to fight to survive, and for that, we need people who are going to help us battle these guys."

Chad volunteered immediately, his friend followed soon after. Some more of his classmates reluctantly volunteered to try and stop the school shooters as well. And while hope was slim at best, they were willing to fight.

The eight students and single teacher armed themselves with whatever improvised weapons they could get such as scissors and pens, ready to stab the maniacs. Chad himself picked up a chair to use as a bludgeoning.

Even, looking at the display of courage wanted to join them as well, but he was too scared to even move. All the same, he wished them luck since his life was also on the line.

Then the door knob started to jiggle, and everyone calm to a complete silence. Even Haley's friends had gone and stopped making sobbing noises as the person outside forced open the door, creating low pitched squealing due to the weight of the desks scrapping against the floor.

The makeshift student guard was waiting for the door to open and for a shooter to try and get into the classroom. They were ready to attack at a moment's notice.

What they didn't expect to see was a grenade being thrown through the barely opened door. Even could only hear gasping before it blew. The explosion rocked the entire classroom as everyone gave out a new wave of screams of fright and agony. Even swore that he saw a bloody, severed leg land in front of him. He didn't scream though, he was much too scared for that.

Then the door burst open, allowing five armed and masked hostiles to enter the classroom unchallenged as they opened fire on everyone inside. Screams were silenced as lead passed through flesh. Even could hear that they were at least semi-automatic, and he thought he heard the blast of a shotgun as well. Though with his ears ringing, he couldn't be certain.

"Team leader," a radio crackled from one of the shooter's chests. "Come in team leader."

"Team leader here." A male answered as single shots were shot at the students that had survived the forced entrance.

"There's cops are here, and they've got a fucking S.W.A.T team with them. They've taken out Johnny and Walter."

"Take out as many of those fucks as possible," their leader ordered. "Detonate your vests if they try to arrest you or if you're almost dead!" The man with the radio rounded the desk that Even was hiding behind, the desk that had somehow made all the bullets pass around him and not through him.

Even could only stare at the man who wore an explosive vest over his street clothes. His face concealed by his black ski mask, but Even could see that they eyes had meet each other's. His scared eyes meeting one filled with malice. "We'll clean up whatever we can inside."

And with that, everything from Even's upper jaw and up was torn to a bloody pulp by a load of buckshot.

* * *

 _The massacre of Greenfield High became a dark turning point for the country as nearly one hundred and thirty students and eight teachers were killed during the attack in addition to sixteen injured students and five dead police officers._

 _Seven seniors, one junior, and one freshman, lead by twins Jacob and Spencer Thomson, stormed their school with illegally obtained military and civilian grade weapons along with homemade explosive vests that failed to detonate with the intent to murder as many of their fellow students as possible._

 _Obtained evidence from the school shooters showed that they had planned the assault for weeks. Their reasoning being that they were victims of continuous harassment that the school system failed to acknowledge and take action towards._

 _When news of their reasonings were revealed, sympathetic teens, both of drop outs and attending students, from around the country created havoc. Many more were killed and even more were injured as several small businesses were shut down due to the property destruction. It is estimated that little more than half the participants weren't doing it for any kind of cause and did it purely for fun._

 _Since then, Juvenile crime rates, poverty, and unemployment have soared while graduation rates and police budgets have been cut due to the country's economic failure._

 _For years, the United States government have tried to quell the economic failure with little results._

 _In a desperate attempt to get the nation back to it's status as an economic super, the United States government approved the Youth Reconstruction Act, in which it'll be in effect until youth crime rates lower and the economy stabilizes once again._


	2. Questions

**Youth Reconstruction Act F.A.Q**

 **Why was it activated?:** The United States government deemed it necessary to pass it through in order to try and lessen the youth crime rates and get the economy to rise again.

 **What does the Y.R.A do**?: It limits the rights and freedom of the nation's youth. Such acts include a six a.m to nine p.m curfew and allows the authorities to place out harsher sentences to juveniles found guilty of crimes.

Those that are convicted of major crimes such as murder can be given the death sentence, which will be taken out in public through an execution squad.

It also allows the government to randomly select currently or formally attending students from a number of schools to participate in a fight to the death along side with government supportive students, nicknamed: Enforcers, on live television.

 **How many schools are selected?:** It can range anywhere from four to eight schools, but they usually try to select five or six schools.

 **Why don't only the bad students get selected?:** The schools and students are randomly selected, so everyone has a fair chance. Also, the government is trying to encourage the youths to stop being rebellious and hopes that showing those that are innocent having to suffering along with those that rebel will quell the chaos.

 **Are private schools safe from the selection?:** No.

 **How are the Enforces selected?:** They are selected by finding those that are loyal to the United States government and who have the skills to survive in a survival situation. From there they are given a choice to participate in the program, and though many accept, there are those that decline.

 **Why is the economy so bad?:** Putting aside from the increasing unemployment rates and job losses due to property damage and decreasing graduation rates, teen pregnancy and youth emergency room services have sky rocketed, causing hundreds of thosands of tax dollars to be spent towards them instead of other services.

 **Can't the police do anything about the youth crime epidemic?:** As much as they'd like to, the places where they're needed the most are under staffed and over worked with budget cuts complicating things for them.

 **Why is the program shown on television?:** The United States government is trying to discourage youths from their rebellious acts, and hopes that them seeing their fellow youths get punished for their crimes will help them convert.

 **What are the rules for the program?:** The students all fight to the death until only one is left alive. Since the enforcers act on behalf of the government, their numbers aren't included in the final count. Meaning that any number of enforces can survive at the end of the game, but only one non-enforcer student can walk out alive.

 **Why do you have to pay to watch the program?:** With the government desperate for revenue through other means than taxes, they have deemed it necessary to charge citizens in order to view the program from their homes. Though there are many paying viewers from Canada and Europe.

 **Why not try some other plan instead of the Y.R.A?:** The government has tried several other programs without success.

 **How long will the Y.R.A last?:** It'll last as long as it takes, but the government hopes to end it as soon as possible.

 **Other F.A.Q**

 **What's with the rise in private security?:** The police can't be everywhere at once and often business owners are willing to pay the extra dollar to ensure they're safety and the safety of their businesses.

 **Do schools hire private security?:** Many of the lesser off schools indeed hire private security with their student's safety in mind. Though it is not uncommon for wealthy schools to also hire private security.

 **Why do youths gravitate towards gangs rather than get a legitimate job?:** Many of the youths living in poverty don't have the necessary requirement to get a job due to not graduating school or from lack of available jobs in their area.

 **Are many of the rebellious youths like the Thomson twins?:** No. In recent years, it has been found that many of the youths don't take inspiration from the Thomson twins or their partners in crime. While school shootings have dramatically decreased, the economic disaster is of a result of the Thomson twins, those that they inspired, and those that took advantage of the chaos. Now many of the youths turn to crime because they feel they have no other means of survival.

* * *

 **Schools selected for The Sixth Youth Reconstruction Program (In order from best to worst in terms of graduation rates, least number of crimes committed, and economic stability.)**

 **1) Horizons Private School, Nebraska**

 **2) West Shores High School, California**

 **3) Desert Sands Secondary School, Arizona**

 **4) Sunny Coast High School, Minnesota**

 **5) Crystal Rivers High School, Virginia**

* * *

 **A/N: You know what I hate about ideas in my head? When stuff like this happens.**

 **Too much information above and too hard to understand? Sorry, I'm not good at this kind of stuff, so I'll put it into simple terms before:**

 **Basically, the United States economy has gone to shit, and in a desperate attempt to get it back to it's former glory, the government decided to pass the Youth Reconstruction Act to combat the increasing juvenile crime rate along with the increasing unemployment rate, among other things.**

 **Five schools are selected this year, and it'll have four participating students each, consisting of two boys and two girls. It's a partial SYOT (or SYOS I guess...) so I'll be taking around ten submissions, five boys and five girls. A single boy and girl from each school. None of you may try to submit enforces as they will be my creations.**

 **I guarantee you that your characters will get at least one part in the story, so feel free to make them as detailed as you like (though some detail would be nice.)**

 **When creating your character, try to make them like what they're school would represent. For example, the Horizons Private school is one of the best schools with almost no crime and have some of the most genuine friendships among them, along with being some of the kindest kids as well.**

 **However, the Crystal River High School will be impoverished and many of them will be used to violence with little to no trust towards others.**

 **Anyway... Yeah... I don't know... Have fun... I'll try to make this story short, like... I don't know... 60k or something. It'll have less detail than I'd like, but, I don't know, challenge accepted.**

 **Form's in my profile for those interested.**


	3. Rosters

**Class Rosters**

 **Horizons Private School, Nebraska**

Boy #1: Lockard, Oliver (18)

Girl #1: Springs, Lara (15)

Boy #2: Duma, Leonard (17) -Lmklein20account2

Girl #2: Carselle, Aris (17) - ConcreteClouds

 **West Shores High School, California**

Boy #1: Faulkner, Brad (15)

Girl #1: Rocha, Chloe (17)

Boy #2: Rakitic, Evgeni (14) -AmericanPi

Girl #2: King, Mary Grace (16) - Aceswims

 **Desert Sands Secondary School, Arizona**

Boy #1: Mason, Chris (17)

Girl #1: Bradshaw, Rachel (18)

Boy #2: Olander, "Toph" Christopher (16) -CelticGames4

Girl #2: Kotlarz, Hannah (14) -Aceswims

 **Sunny Coast High School, Minnesota**

Boy #1: Sánchez, Marcos (17)

Girl #1: Chisom, Izzy (16)

Boy #2: Dye, Hewil (17) -hollowman96

Girl #2: Francis, Kiri (16) -Mystical Pine Forest

 **Crystal Rivers High School, Virginia**

Boy #1: Boswell, Hunter (16)

Girl #1: Scoville, Alice (18)

Boy #2: Blackbourne, "Hawk" Beth (17) - CelticGames4

Girl #2: Noire, Elvira (16) - hollowman96

 **Enforcers**

 ***Important: For safety purposes, the surnames of the participating enforces will remain blank on a need to know basis.***

Brody (18) (California)

Ethan (18) (New Mexico)

Keith (18) (Nevada)

Raelyn (18) (Florida)

Tia (18) (South Carolina)

Sandra (18) (Minnesota)


	4. Survivor

**Cranston, Rhode Island**

 _Nothing exciting ever happens here..._

 _Why the fuck did I ever say that?_

Carrying her bag of convenience store snacks as she walked the streets, she hoped that nobody was looking in her direction. Of course, she couldn't know for sure as she kept her head down the best she could while also keeping a careful eye to her front. Her vision further obscured due to the ratty navy blue and white trucker cap hanging low on the right side of her face.

Daring to look a little more upwards, she saw what she dreaded. People, and lots of them. People of all ages walking past her, people standing to the sides, and people milling about just minding their own business. Of course, it was prime time for the buzz of activity that was going through the community in the bright lights of the city. Adults looking to relax with a drink at the bar or a quiet meal at a restaurant while teenagers did what teenagers did during a busy Friday night. Legal and not.

Because of the heightened activity of the weekend, the police were out in a show force, watching for public disturbances and waiting for the call to head to an area of violent activity. Also at the ready were paramedics in case of injuries occurring out in the streets.

Also keeping an eye out for trouble were the private security guards that stood inside and outside their places of business. Especially those at the bars and clubs. She had spotted some quite easily as they tended to stand out, either due to their terrifying presents or their bright fluorescent like jackets.

While there was little to be concerned about at the moment, she knew that the night was still young and there was always a chance for trouble to brew before it escalated into something far worse than a petty, drunken squabble.

Gang members. Drug users. Desperate people wanting money. And those were just the first three that came into her head. Anyone of them could come up, stab you, and be running with your wallet before you could even comprehend what was going on.

But for all there was to worry about, she considered herself lucky that she was living in one of the better places of Rhode Island. Still, she knew what people were capable of. She figured she knew better than most people. Even so, trying to figure why they did such things weren't so simple as sometimes there wasn't even a reason besides the simple fact that they could.

Taking a look at her cheap wrist watch, she noticed that the youth curfew was going to take effect soon. _Fifty minutes to go._ Letting out a disgruntled sigh, the girl walked a tadge bit faster, not wanting to have the cops take her down to the station for being out too late and having to sit and answer questions that amounted to nothing. And while she'd be let go with no repercussions, she didn't want her time to be wasted. Even more, she didn't want their time to be wasted. Because this isn't already a waste of life.

She heard the giggling of schoolgirls ahead of her, causing her to look up enough to see that they were heading towards her, seemingly oblivious to her presents. They were too engaged with each other to notice her. She moved out of the way, not wanting to make eye contact with them. She didn't.

But even though their eyes never meet she had seen enough of the lead high schooler to know that she was beautiful. Long, wavy blonde hair, nicely tanned skin, and the slim and curvy figure that boys went crazy for without being too busty. And the way she wore her clothes... Christ. She almost looked like a front cover magazine model.

As the band of teenage girls passed her, she felt a wave of guilt and envy crash over her. She gave out a disgruntled hum.

They were happy. They were having a good time with each other. With friends.

 _I don't deserve that._

She continued among her path towards her home, wondering if there would be another unsanctioned protest against the Youth Reconstruction Act tonight. Another jailed or executed protester. Another dead cop found hanging from a street light in the middle of an intersection. Or how about another rape victim that got pregnant and forced to become a parent because they took the wrong way home? How about someone choosing to protest the government by destroying the windows of a store or tagging the walls with stenciled pictures?

Or those that just don't give a damn about the Y.R.A and just commit those crimes for the fun of it? Using the Y.R.A as an excuse to make them seem less like an asshole and more like a wannabe hero.

Maybe the paramedics will find another stab victim, or a kid having an overdose in the middle of the road.

 _I should have done better._

She continued to walk, doing her best to stay out of people's way. Unfortunately, despite her best effort, she couldn't get out of the way good enough for a couple of people. A tough looking older teen boy in a leather jacket and a girl the same age in a fancy red jacket. Even though they took up most of the sidewalk and didn't watch where they were going, when she slightly bumped shoulders with the couple, the girl started to berate her harshly.

"You clumsy little bitch, watch where you're going." She snarled, glaring at her.

"I'm sorry." The girl with the hat muttered, even though the couple had not watched where they had been going and hadn't even tried to move out of the way.

"Ugh, hit me pretty hard. That really hurt me. And look at what you did to my favorite jacket. You ruined it." She said dramatically as she rubbed her arm, even though there was little damage done to her or her clothes.

"I'm sorry." Hat girl muttered again. Her head and eyes still looking slightly down.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The girl's boyfriend said in a mocking tone. "Is that all you can fucking say? How about you get on your knees and beg for forgiveness?"

The pedestrians around the trio avoided the three teenagers, not wanting to get in the middle of it lest they get hurt. Or worse. They weren't going to help her, and all three of them knew it. And they were out of the sights of the cops and private security guards at the moment, so the couple were taking full advantage of it.

The girl in the hat gave out a disgruntled sigh, which the boy took as a sign of disrespect as his cocky smile turned into a snarl. "Are you deaf and retarded? I said get on your god damn knees." He demanded before he punched the girl across the face, causing the trucker hat to fly off her head as the girl just accepted the fist.

The couple caught a look at her and her uncovered features. Short black hair on a tanned and slim body of Italian decent. Nothing remarkable. Until they looked at her face, and saw that the right half of her face seemed to be disfigured, covered in mismatched scars, and her eye was replaced with a false glass one.

They recognized her. After all, she had become famous, or infamous to some due to her winning The Program. In front of them stood eighteen year old Genevieve Copeland, winner of The Fifth Annual Program. Everyone, at least on Rhode Island, knew who she was.

Genevieve didn't mutter a word as she got punched, but the boy took her silence and lack of movement as a sign of weakness. Even if only barely a second had passed. "Guess Program winners aren't so tough, huh." He announced as his cocky smile returned. "How about this? Give us all the money you have on you, and we'll call it even. After all, you got awarded all the prize money didn't you? Or would you rather still get on your knees?"

While Genevieve was far from helpless and had a butterfly knife in the back pocket of her jeans, she instead reached for her wallet and gave them all the money she had inside it. A grand total of fifty three dollars and eighty cents. The couple snatched the money out of her hand before roughly shoving past her with a sense of superiority and self-important swagger in their step as they laughed and mocked her for being so pathetic.

Genevieve, however, didn't mind. She felt as if she deserved it.

 _I shouldn't have lived. She told herself as she continued her way home. Andula should have won. She was tough, pretty, and had a future. She saved me from that enforcer. Stopped him from bashing my head all the way in with a ball point hammer. So how do you reward her? By getting scared and bashing her head in with said hammer when it came down to only us two. All because I wanted to live. That enforcer was killing me because they wanted Andula to live. I wasn't supposed to live. But Andula saved me, and I killed her for it. Some best fucking friend I am._

Genevieve picked up her hat and placed it back on her head so it mostly hid the disfigured part of her face, ashamed to show it to the world.

It was a reminder of her failure as a friend. Not that it was the only one.

The text messages and E-mails she received from angry classmates and former friends, the way bricks smashed through her house windows and the shouts that followed, the harassing phone calls, the bullying, those were reminders as well. That was why she had dropped out of Storm Coast Secondary School mere weeks after coming out of the hospital.

The humiliation and the harassment she received at school, she didn't like it at first, but quickly learned to accept it. She figured she deserved it. After all, why should she be alive when better people were dead? Her former friends abandoned her because she had killed Andula and three other kids. Sure the first one had been an accident, but murder was still murder.

They were scared of her. They hated her. They avoided her. They left her. She didn't blame them.

 _Why would they want to be around a murderer anyway? Why would you want to be afraid that you're going to be next?_

Genevieve caught her reflection in a shop window that was selling electronics. They were showing a film about an action hero saving a pretty girl.

Genevieve, of Italian decent, had had decent looks before, even if she couldn't match Andula's stunning Czechoslovakian blonde hair and white skin that seemed to glow and light up the room.

 _I turned ugly because I am an ugly creature._

Genevieve noticed the pistol that the movie star was holding in his hand, and thought of the times she thought of buying a gun. But because of the youth rebellions and the Greenfield massacre, guns were a lot harder to legally purchase. And she couldn't get any from the few street dealers she could find as they always thought she was a government snitch.

Not that she wanted to turn them over to the government, nor did she want to become a terrorist. All she wanted to do was end it all. But even that was too hard to do as she had been saved by first responders twice before.

The teen girl turned away from the store window and continued her journey to her shitty apartment room.

She thought of the news report of Clifford Rose, winner of The Fourth Annual Program from Texas, and wondered how he managed to snuff his life out.

She also thought of the other Program winners. The first winner, Nelson Bowers from Washington. The second winner, Jerry James from Georgia. The third winner, Kendra Edwards from Michigan. Their lives must have been better since they were still alive. She hadn't done enough research on them to come to a conclusion. But then again, she didn't really give a fuck about them.

 _I won The Program. But at what cost? Memories of those that I killed. Memories of my best friend dying by my hand. A fucked up face. Losing my friends. Losing my education. Moving away from my family so that they won't have to suffer the harassment with me. Christ. I may have gotten some money from the government for winning the program, but it's not enough to hold me for life. Hell, can't even get out of Rhode Island because of government interference._

 _Nobody will hire me as I don't have the looks of someone working the front line, and people don't trust me enough to work the back. They worry that I have P.T.S.D and I'll go on a rampage if they say one wrong thing. Not only that, but I'll be putting their business in danger because of how many people hate me here. The government won't allow me to get plastic surgery as they're afraid that I'll change my face and disappear or something._

 _I don't have a future. Not that I deserve one anyway._

 _If Andula had lived, I bet she'd have ended up being a supermodel and be living life like she was supposed to. She didn't deserve to die. I did. But she, always the best friend, saved me. None of this would have happened if I hadn't have been so damn selfish._

 _And my school mates dying. Thomas... Julia... They wouldn't have been killed. My school wouldn't have been selected if I hadn't said those words._

That one single sentence continued to haunt her. She couldn't stop thinking of them. Couldn't stop thinking of the consequences it had brought her. Her family. Her friends. Her school.

 _Nothing exciting ever happens here..._

 _Why the fuck did I ever say that?_

 **A/N: Again, not good with short chapters. Hope it was alright.**


	5. Awakening

Her eyes opened up a crack.

She couldn't see much as her world was obscured by thick black blinds. Tilting her head slightly, it caused her some strands of sleek black hair to move across her pale face. The way her hair covered her face made it almost look like a designer bathroom tile.

She let out a weak groan as she forced her heavy eyes to open the entire way, but that was easier said than done as they seemed to made out of cement for some reason. Not only that, but she felt oddly tired with a slight headache.

Wondering why she still felt tired after waking up, Kiri Francis stretched out her arms and scratched the back of her head and began to think. _Wow... What a nightmare. To think that I thought that I got selected for The Program._

In the dream, she had thought that she had been called to the principal's office, the reason had been lost on her as she couldn't figure out what she had done wrong. Still, she had gone anyway, not wanting to get in anymore trouble by not appearing. There was whispering among her classmates, but she couldn't hear them very well, so she did her best to ignore them. Still, she did wonder what they were saying about her. Though really, that was nothing new they always seemed to have something to say about her.

When she had entered the principal's office, she almost immediately noticed that the principal wasn't alone. On both sides of the aging adult were two masked police officers that appeared to be wearing body armor and tactical vests. Kiri had looked to either side of the room, and saw that there were two additional officers, also masked and in tactical gear. His also took not of the long arms that hung from their necks as well as their side arms.

The teenager wondered what was going on as the principal instructed her to close the door behind her. Kiri obeyed before she took a seat in front of the stout desk. Almost immediately, the two rear end cops came up right behind her. Kiri felt intimidated, but didn't think that it had anything to do with her. After all, Sunny Coast High School had it's share of delinquents and maybe she was called in to assist with solving a crime?

"Mrs. Francis," the principal said to her with a sympathetic tone. "I'm sorry to inform you that you've been selected for this year's Youth Reconstruction Program." As soon as she heard that sentence, Kiri became more than just worried. She became terrified. "Now, I've told these gentlemen you'd cooperate with them and not make a scene. Just go with them and things won't be worse off than they have to be."

Kiri didn't move, didn't even speak as she was still trying to wrap her head around the entire situation.

It wasn't until she felt a hand touch her shoulder that she sprung into action, shouting that she wasn't going to go as she leaped out of her seat. That was when a gloved hand went over her mouth and she began fighting with the much stronger and superiorly numbered officers.

Then everything went black.

And now here she was, awake from a nightmare.

 _Some nightmare._ Kiri thought before a loud squelched occurred above and around her.

"Ahh, good, you're all awake now." Kiri's eyes opened up a little quicker after that, noticing that she wasn't in her room, like she expected to be. She wasn't even in a bed. Instead, she noticed that she was inside some sort of closed wall closet. There were no windows in the room, nor was there really anything in the room. The only reason she could even see anything was because of the light fixture that was shining light in the room. "I'll make this quick," the masculine voice said over the speaker that Kiri could see in the corner of the ceiling. "You're all now participating in the sixth annual Youth Reconstruction Program. The rules are simple, you will kill each other until only one of you remains. Don't even think about escaping as you are miles away from any kind of civilization. There's a tracker inside of you that'll allow us to know your current position, and if you try anything cute with us, we won't hesitate to activate it. That being said, anything else goes as you battle other students from around the country. Scattered across the battlefield you will find things of interest such as food, water, medicine, and weapons ranging from bludgeoning to firearms. Use them well and maybe you'll be the one to get out of here alive along with the prize money in addition to knowing that you're the one that is also contributing to making a better America. There is not time limit, but don't take too long as the more time goes by, the more likely you'll stumble onto one of this year's participating volunteers who'll more than likely be less friendly that your schoolmates. Remember, our volunteers don't count towards the final count, so keep that in mind as you plow your way through the battlefield and pick a fight. God speed, all of you."

And with that speech concluded, there was a blast of static before the room went silent save her Kiri's heartbeat and breathing.

As Kiri began to freak out, an electronic buzz went off, signalling that the closet door she was trapped in was being unlocked. Kiri didn't hear it though as her mind raced.

 _The Program... I'm in it... Oh God, it wasn't a nightmare. It's real!_

Kiri didn't know what to do. Besides not knowing what to do in a situation like this, the girl was used to things being a certain way, and she liked it to be the same thing day after day. She liked her routine, but that entire thing had been thrown out the window.

And though she knew that she had to adjust to her new setting and situation quickly, she couldn't help but continue to freak out.

 _What do I do what do I do?_ She asked herself as she thought of the notion of kids killing each other. Her being one of them.

* * *

The first thing that occurred in his mind was that he needed a weapon. Something, anything to defend himself with. This was a fight to the death, and though he knew that food and liquids would be playing a key part in surviving The Program, having a way to defend yourself was essential as the food and water would be useless if you couldn't protect yourself or your supplies from predators.

So that's what he did. He searched the house that he had started the event in, and found it unsurprisingly empty. He figured as much as during last year's program, the participants had found their starting locations empty as well. He deducted that it was probably deliberate as the people managing the program wanted the participants to leave their starting point and go into the field and have a better chance of running into the other students. After all, that's what sold the program to the viewers. The violence. Nobody watched an action movie for just the story, they wanted the violence that ensured.

So Christopher Olander, better known as Toph around his school of Desert Sands Secondary, ran through the houses in the search for supplies.

He didn't think that anything would be in his pockets, and as expected, there wasn't. Though he wasn't sure how well a cell phone and a graphing calculator would be within The Program. _Cell phones would more than likely be jammed to prevent calls to the outside world, and actually killing someone with a graphing calculator?_

Upon running into the first selected home, he didn't truly expect to find a conventional weapon as the government tended to liberate most of those things from the homes, otherwise there would be a large number of guns and knives being found everywhere. It made for more suspense as the participants had to look harder lest they fight with their bare fists. So he was actually surprised to find a kitchen knife in one of the kitchen drawers.

His house searches were quick but efficient, looking at the most likely places things might be hidden in before heading out back into the streets. And when he was out in the streets, he stayed out in the open as little as possible as to avoid being seen too easily. And he listened. He listened for footsteps and other sounds that gave away that someone was close to him.

While he was running between houses, he noticed that while there was a good amount of houses scattered across the place, there was also a good amount of open farm land. And if he was correct, and he was sure he was, there was a corn field as well.

He thought about heading towards the corn field and picking as much corn as he could after he found a backpack or a duffle bag, but he tossed the idea away when he thought about how he would easily be seen running towards it in a heavily open area.

So instead, he settled for the plastic bag he had found and was currently loading up on a couple cans of food and a couple of small water bottles in the current house he was searching.

 _Couple cans of food and a couple bottles of water aren't going to last very long._ Toph told himself as he opened and closed some of cupboard and drawers, finding nothing that was valuable to him. _After all, from what the clocks in this place say it's only early morning right now, and it's only going to get hotter as time goes on. Not only that, but the stress can probably dry me out faster than normal. Not to mention how long this game will probably last._

In the bathroom he opened the mirror cabinet and found a bottle of insect repellent and placed it in the plastic bag as well. _If this thing is like back home then the mosquito and black flies well be out in force. That's one of the things that killed moral for some of the participants in last year's game. Getting attacked by black flies as they bite chunks of flesh off one bit at a time._

Shuddering at the thought, the boy decided to spray some of the bug spray on himself before the insects started to actually bite him before he booked it out of the house, finding that there was nothing else worth raiding. He didn't notice that another person was outside of the house until he heard someone yell to him.

"Freeze pendejo!" Taken aback, Toph did indeed freeze for a second before he turned towards the voice, and saw someone pointing a handgun at him from a fair distance away. Probably no more than twenty five feet away.

Between the two of them, there were clear differences in both appearance and attire. Toph was pale and lanky with dirty blonde hair and spotted with facial acne, while his opponent was dark skinned and lean with black hair.

Toph's cargo shorts, beat up tennis shoes, and black t-shirt that told the world that science doesn't care what you believed in at least looked like it was bought from a proper store while the other boy had a long sleeve blue and white flannel shirt and used jeans that looked like it came from a sale at the Salvation Army. "Throw your bag towards me!" The latino demanded harshly. "Now now! Or would you rather want a bullet in the face?" Toph complied with the order, a plan already forming in his mind.

 _I didn't throw the bag very far, but because of that, he has to get closer to me, and because it actually takes time to point and aim the gun properly, I can run towards him and stab him with my knife before he can take a shot._

With the bag only about twelve feet away from him, Toph watched the stranger walk cautiously towards the bag before he finally reached it and reached out with his free hand to grab it. Toph quickly and carefully pulled out his knife as he charged, only to hear a gunshot an instant after blinding hot agony lanced through his left thigh.

Marcos Sánchez, startled by Toph reaching behind his back, had shot at the pale youth in blind panic with his Glock twenty two, sending a point forty Smith and Wesson bullet through his left leg right before he fell onto his back screaming. Blood sprayed from his leg and continued to leak out of his leg and onto the road as Toph screamed. "Idiota." Marcos muttered as he picked up the bag of supplies, angry at himself that he had wasted a bullet.

Taking his loot with him, Marcos ran down the street and soon disappeared from sight as Toph pressed his hands on his bullet wounds, feeling the hot blood pushing against his palms as he screamed in pure agony.

* * *

Looking at the choice selection of brightly advertised products, Hunter Boswell was trying to decide which one he wanted the most. After about five seconds of trying to decide, he figured that he didn't really need to choose when he could just take all of them.

Picking up the cash register, the boy used it to smash open the display case before tossing it to the side and grabbed out several packages of cigarettes and disposable lighters as well.

Hunter cracked open a package and withdrew a cancer stick, put it in his mouth, lit the tip, and inhaled it's poison.

Sitting on the checkout counter of the mostly emptied out liquor store, Hunter looked eerily calm about being in The Program, but that's because he was calm. Fact was, when the riot police tossed in their canisters of tear gas through the windows and entered his home in force, Hunter was one of the few that didn't fight back. It wasn't because he was scared, or because everything happened too fast to comprehend. It was simply because he didn't care and didn't completely understand what was going on. And even though he now understood what was going on, he still didn't give a damn.

Cracking open a bottle of Jack Daniels and taking a pull of the whiskey, letting the harsh liquid pass through his throat, Hunter thought of how The Program was no different than Crystal Rivers High School or his home. Everyday, every hour, every minute, every second. All the time it was a fight for survival, one that some thrived in while others meet their demise.

To say that he lived in probably the worst place in Virginia wasn't much of an overstatement. Gang battles on the street, poverty, the police doing what they could to keep some semblance of order but were too understaffed and under budgeted to make much of a difference.

While his parents and siblings had nothing but negative opinions about the police, Hunter respected them in their fight for control. While he couldn't call his hometown a war zone as he had watched footage of the fights in places such as The Middle East and Africa, he would say that if it weren't for the police, the city wouldn't be far behind those war torn countries in terms of terror and violence.

Rubbing his eyes that looked more dazed and confused than anything else, Hunter heard the bell at the store entrance door ring, telling him that someone had entered. Hunter looked at the newcomer and saw someone vaguely familiar.

The newcomer, Beth Blackbourne, better known as Hawk, didn't recognize the boy sitting on the counter. Even though they had gone to the same school and neither would be hard to miss, the two of them just couldn't recognize each other. But not for bad reasons as Hunter was a dropout and Hawk rarely went to the school and only went to pick up supplies.

"The fuck you looking at?" Hawk said with more confidence than he really felt as he had no idea if the person sitting in front of him had a weapon or not. Hawk himself had no weapons as well other than his fists, which he had wrapped in some scotch tape he had found in one of the houses.

Hunter said nothing as he just started and sucked on his cigarette. Hawk didn't like his attitude, and stepped towards him in a threatening manner. "I asked what the fuck you looking at you dumb shit. You see something that amuses your pathetic little mind?"

Again, Hunter just said nothing and stared.

Most people just by looking at Hunter could see that he was too messed up in the mind to see what was going on. His eyes had dark purple like sags due to sleep deprivation and drug use while his open black hoodie and jeans were as dirty and unwashed as his black hair.

But Hawk wasn't most people, and took his silence as an insult. Hawk grabbed Hunter by the neck and threw him off the counter and onto the floor with a loud thud. His smoke and liquor came out of his grips as the liquid spilled onto the floor. Hawk then kicked Hunter on the side before letting out a shout. "Still think I'm fucking funny to look at?"

If there was one thing that Hawk was sensitive to, it was his identity. The transgender was born as a girl of south asian decent, but identified as a guy. He had cut his black hair short and wore a sports bra under his baggy black hoodie to appear flatter. Because of that, he had gotten into many fights with his schoolmates when he had came out to them. And he liked the fighting. It made him feel alive. And when he won, it made him feel powerful. Like an alpha male.

"You made me spill my jack." Hunter told him nonchalantly, only causing Hawk to be even more pissed off. _He thinks I'm a joke!_ Hawk rationalized before he picked up Hunter by the front of his shirt and punched him across the face, causing Hunter to crash into one of the liquor display cases and knock down a couple of glass bottles, shattering them on the floor. Hawk hit him another three times, the third time managing to make blood fly from his mouth. "My little sister hits harder than you." Hunter calmly stated.

Even more pissed, Hawk grabbed a glass vodka bottle and striked Hunter in the face with it. The bottle didn't break, but it made a clunk noise as Hunter once again found himself on the ground with a face hurting like a motherfucker. Hawk then lifted up one of his legs and stomped on Hunter's face, hearing the wet crack of Hunter's nose breaking before Hunter gave out a wail of agony.

Hawk looked at the pathetic sight in front of him, and found that something was wrong. He didn't feel that rush of euphoria that he normally felt when he was fighting people. It felt wrong. Like he wasn't the alpha male of the two of them. Like he wasn't even a male, like he was supposed to be, but got born as the wrong gender. _No. Nothing's wrong. I just haven't caused him enough pain. That's fucking it._

The transgender then began to stomp on the boy's chest and stomach, watching his pained reactions. Nothing came to Hawk. Hawk kicked him across the face, sending a spray of blood from his mouth that spattered onto the side of the checkout counter. Hawk still felt nothing.

As he looked at the pathetic creature in front of him figured that there was nothing wrong with him. That there was something wrong with the person on the floor. _He's weaksause. Not worth my time._

Hawk threw the vodka bottle to the floor in frustration, shattering it mere inches from Hunter's face causing the rouge glass to cut the side of his face.

Climbing over the counter, Hawk liberated some packages of cigarettes and a lighter, but also decided to take a six pack of beer when he found a small cooler bag.

He exited the liquor store, placed a cigarette in his mouth, and lit it. Hawk inhaled the acrid smoke before giving out some raspy coughs. _Been a while since I smoked._ He thought as he pocketed the smokes and lighter. While he was normally on a tight budget, he decided that he wouldn't put too much thought into controlling his nicotine intake as they did calm him down and he had several packs.

 _Now, to find someone more worth my time to assert my male dominance._

 **A/N: Now the hard part begins... Writing a piece that's not too long, but not too short. As I've stated multiple times, but will say it once more, there won't be as much detail or character development as I'd like, but hope there's still some enjoyment. Thanks for your submissions and lets see how this goes.**


	6. Support

_Was... Was that a gunshot?_

That was the question on her mind as the dry, booming sound traveled from its source to her ears. She really didn't know that much about guns, so she couldn't guess what kind of firearm had been fired or how far it was. Still, after a couple of seconds of recovering from her sudden fright, she had no doubt in her mind that it was a gunshot.

It downright frightened her as she knew exactly where she was and what she was participating in.

When the headmaster had called her and three other students into his office, she didn't know what she, or the others had done wrong. But out of the four of them, she could guess that two of them had legitimately caused some trouble, even if one of them was being more discrete than the other.

She had gone in with her schoolmates, only to discover that there were armed police officers in the headmaster's office. They were fully decked out in what appeared to be assault equipment as they had tactical vests, balaclavas and helmets. They looked intimidating as they watched the students. Lara Springs could only guess why they were there, and looked at red headed new student Aris Carselle, who looked worried that she had been caught doing something bad. And though she couldn't see it, Leonard Duma was looking nervous as well.

"Everyone, please take a seat." The headmaster instructed. To which they all did, eyeing each other up, wondering what they had each done to have the police come to the school and have them interviewed by the headmaster. Lara herself didn't know what she had done, because as far as she knew, she was innocent of any crimes.

Her worry only intensified as she watched the headmaster take off his wire framed glasses and place them on his desk with a remorseful look on his face. "I'm very sorry to inform you all, but you four have been chosen to participate in this year's Youth Reconstruction Program." There were gasps among the four of them as the headmaster continued. "These gentlemen here are to escort you there, and I told them that you'd all come quietly and peacefully and not create a commotion."

"Why would we do that?" Aris asked as if it was the dumbest thing in the world that they'd willingly go to a death battle.

"Because if you don't," the headmaster answered. "They," he nudged his head towards the large window in the room. "Will come in and force you to go."

All four students went over to the window, and noticed that there were at least thirty riot cops standing outside ready for action. Worse yet, they looked equally, if not more, intimidating than the cops inside the room with her. She swore one of the riot cops outside gave them a wave before she swung a curtain across the window, blocking the view. "I don't want to make the school a battle ground, it'll only get you and your friends needlessly hurt. So please, don't make this any worse than it has to be."

They begrudgingly accepted to be escorted quietly by the masked officers.

Now here she was, in the middle of no where in what appeared to be a rural farming area, though probably on the edge of it as she could see a town ahead of her in the distance. She didn't know the size of it, but it didn't appear to be something suburban, but something resembling it to a degree.

Looking about, she didn't know where she should go. She didn't know if she should take her chances at one of the farm buildings, or one of the buildings in town. _Sure there's more buildings there, and more likely that I'll find something there. But isn't that where everyone else'll be headed to as well?_

She didn't want to run into anyone else, because not only was she delicately sized, she wasn't very strong. She looked like an easy target. To add to the fear, the gunshot told her that someone might already be playing the game. And while she hadn't watched The Program on TV, she had read enough books to know that in a situation like this, there were enough assholes in the world that would actually take advantage of the situation.

Looking between her two options, she decided to take her chances and headed towards one of the farm houses in the distance.

Jogging in the open field, Lara couldn't help but curse at her school uniform. The white dress shirt and green sweater were not optimal when you needed to run as it held in your body heat and created needless condensation. Her matching knee length green skirt and black dress shoes were not the best for running. Not only that, but her green and white tie made it seem as if she was being strangled at the neck.

She swore that as soon as she found some better clothes she was going to change into them. She didn't care if it was some farming coveralls, sweaters and skirts were not made for survival. In the meantime, she pulled off her school sweater and tied it around her waist.

Reaching the aged, two story farm house, Lara rushed inside and began her search for supplies. She didn't find anything of use to her as the house seemed devoid of supplies, but the house had running water at least.

Lara grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water, and drank deeply before she ripped off her tie and used it to tie back her blonde hair so it wouldn't get into her eyes as she ran.

 _Great, nothing here. What now?_

She didn't have to think about it very long as Hewil Dye jumped on top of Lara and forced her to the floor rather easily with his short but fat body.

With a head of curly black hair and a face full of acne, the seventeen year old from Sunny Coast High School was not a pretty sight to look at. The boy wrapped his hands around the fifteen year old girl, effectively cutting off her air supply as he snarled at her.

"Listen here bitch and listen good. You ain't nothing here, just like you are back where ever the fuck you came from." Lara fought back as she tried to pry his arms off of her, but even though Hewil was just as tall as her at five foot one, he was too heavy for her to push off. "So you're going to work for me. Do that and I won't kill you right fucking now."

Lara, desperate for air, just nodded profusely before the fat boy smiled and got off of her.

Lara gasped and coughed as she rubbed her throat, standing up with unsteady grace, using the kitchen counter behind her as support. "Glad you at least know your place in the world."

That was when Lara, in survival mode, grabbed the cup she had drank out of and smashed it over the fat boy's head with all her might. The glass shattered as pieces of ceramic sliced the boy's head and Lara's hand open.

Both of them screamed as Lara hadn't expected to get hurt herself.

Even though Horizons Private School was one of the most peaceful schools in the country, the students were still encouraged to learn how to defend themselves for when they went to town on the weekends. Most preferred to stay within the safety of the school grounds, but there were still some that choose to take the long ride to town.

Though Lara had not partaken in any self defense lessons, she often talked with her friends about what they'd do in such situations during brakes and sleep overs. Though she had never thought that she'd actually be using something she had seen on TV to someone else until she graduated from Horizons and was bigger and stronger.

Clutching her injured hand, Lara ran past Hewil and towards the outside. She didn't know where she was going to go, but she wasn't staying around to be with him. "You cunt!" She heard him roaring. "You stupid fucking cunt!"

She burst out of the front door and made it about twenty feet before she crashed into someone. Both of them fell onto the ground before Lara thought of the worst. Someone else was going to kill her instead.

"Please don't kill me!" She begged as she held her hands over her head in a not so defensive position. Her eyes were closed so that at least she wouldn't see what had killed her.

"Lara?" A very familiar voice asked in surprise.

The young girl's eyes opened up, feeling safer once she heard the voice.

"Oliver?" She asked before she saw a tall, darker blonde haired boy with the same school uniform as her, but for men, as a blazer was in the place of a sweater and dress pants replacing a skirt.

While there were more than a few girls at Horizons that would rather stay away from eighteen year old Oliver Lockard thanks to his not always successful flirting with females and the way he'd chase them for fun, there was no one else that Lara would rather run into. Just seeing him gave Lara a sense of protection.

"Why you running sweat heart?" The self labeled ladies man asked right before he got his answer in the form of another boy rushing out of the house shouting profanities. The boy's head was bleeding, telling him that either Lara or someone else had attacked him.

"There you are you slut!" Hewil yelled, practically foaming at the mouth at Lara's display of rebellion against him. "Ready to die!"

It was enough to make Oliver's blood boil.

"You aren't going to do a damn thing to her!" Oliver shouted towards the other boy. Hewil stopped dead in his tracks in fright as he suddenly noticed that Lara was no longer alone. To Hewil, girls and women were weak, useless, and fair game to do as he pleased with. Guys on the other hand were something completely different as they were much tougher to deal with. Not only that, but his bigger and stronger friends weren't there to help him. Even worse, the pissed off boy had just grabbed a wooden Louisville Slugger baseball bat from off the ground.

Hewil found no way out of the situation as he backed up in fear with his hands up as Oliver approached him with malice on his mind. Hewil made it back into the house when he came up with a plan that wouldn't end with him being beat up.

"We can share the bitch." Hewil told Oliver. He was about to say more, but because Oliver had hit him across the face with his solid weapon with a crack and the sound of cheekbones and teeth shattering, Hewil didn't even get a chance to yell in pain as he became unconscious. Blood escaped Hewil's mouth as blood spattered onto some of the previous occupant's framed family photos as teeth landed on top of and behind the dresser. Hewil's head smacked the dresser before it slide onto the floor, leaving a long blood smear behind.

Oliver looked down at the coma like Hewil with no pity, but didn't go to bash his head open as he didn't think that he'd be able to do it, even in his enraged state. Instead, he spat on the boy who wasn't even twitching and went back over to the girl that he considered to be the little sister he never had.

"You okay?" Oliver asked.

"I am now." Lara answered. Oliver then noticed her bloody hand. Oliver ripped his tie off before he tied it around her hand and created an improvised bandage.

"This will have to do for now. I swear, I'll find something better soon."

"No no, it's good." Lara declared before she took her big brother figure by the hand. "Let's just, get out of here."

"Yeah." Oliver agreed. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."

The two of them left the house and went to search some more farm houses. Oliver looked back and wondered if he should go back and make sure that the guy that attacked Lara wouldn't be coming back up. But figured that someone else could finish him off.

"You think we can find the others?" Lara asked. "Aris and Leonard?"

"I don't know." Oliver answered. "Besides, do we really want to find them? Leonard's kind of an ass with spoiled single child syndrome and Aris is kind of anti-social and hard to get along with."

"Even so, we can't survive this by ourselves. Strength in numbers and such."

"Can we even trust them?"

"Nobody else we can trust here."

Oliver thought for a moment before he responded.

"Fine. But if they do anything stupid, pop goes their head." He said as he gave his baseball bat a light swing. He only hoped that he'd have the willpower to follow through with it.

* * *

If there was one thing that he thought about being selected for The Program, it's that he didn't think that it was a bad thing. In fact, he found it a good thing. A great thing even. While he could see that his other school mates that got selected along with him didn't want to go, but were threatened with police action if they didn't. That was the only reason they went without a fuss.

Thing was, even if there was no threat of being pursued by the police, he still wouldn't have put up a fight. He'd still willingly enter The Program.

If anything, he figured that it was divine intervention that allowed him to take part in such a glorious event, one that made a difference in America against their war against the youth rebellion. Sure he wasn't all that spit and polish clean himself, but he knew that there were worse things than getting caught vandalizing someone's home. He thought that it was almost worth it as the guy had been an asshole.

Then there was the time he had shoplifted with the encouragement of his friends. It had been five years ago when he was only twelve, but he had never been caught for it. He didn't like to think that he was the same as the scum that were doing worse things than him, and he justified it towards peer pressure and that it was only a one time thing.

He worried about getting caught for shoplifting everyday since he had done it, and that fear only intensified when he got caught for vandalism. His parents managed to bail him out and give the police station a generous donation so that his record could stay clean, but the fear that the cops would actually make the charges stick, turning him into those that he despised, never went away.

Walking through the streets of the near abandoned town, Leonard Duma wondered if this was a way to make up for nearly ending up like the delinquents he hated so much.

 _This is a way for you to contribute back to society. You contributed to the problem of this generation when you were younger, but now you can make up for it._

Indeed, that was his plan. Kill those that were in The Program with him and make America better by taking out those that were the source of the problem. Commoners. Leonard had never heard of a rich person contributing to the economic downfall, so of course those of the lower and middle class would be responsible. Even before the downfall most of the violence and crimes were committed by them anyway.

Looking at the weapon he had found, a Walther PPK, better known as the James Bond gun, Leonard planned on raining down heavenly fire on the scum that destroyed America's reputation. He'd become a hero like the iconic spy.

Leonard was confident. Tall and fairly strong with short brown hair and a school uniform, he considered himself good looking and someone that the viewers would root for. And even though he sported a pair of glasses, the lessons his father had given him on firearms were more than enough to make up for that fact.

Turning down the street, he noticed another person jogging towards him not too far away. Both of them saw each other, and Leonard could see that the other person was holding a pistol as well. Drawing his own pistol up, Leonard pointed his weapon at the boy who simply screamed.

"Oh fuck!"

"Stay where you are!" Leonard commanded.

Leonard didn't fire however, as he noticed something peculiar about the person in front of him. For one, he was wearing a surgical mask over his face and had a black toque over his near shoulder length black hair. Black hair hung partly over his blue eyes that looked like hard marble tiles. Leonard sensed no threat with the other boy, so he decided to ask him a question, seeing as it wouldn't hurt.

"You an enforcer?" Leonard asked.

"What?" The other boy shrieked in surprise and fear. "No. Why?"

"Because you're dressed like one." Leonard answered. "Face covered and all."

"It's for protection." The boy told him with a trembling voice. Leonard could see the logic behind that. Participants feared the enforcers. More than a few ran the second they even thought they saw one.

Leonard, being a patriot through and through supported The Program, having paid for the viewing membership every year as a way to help the economy. Because of that, he also supported the enforcers, young government supporters like him in the game, and was often mad at those that murdered them. It was one of the reasons he hated the second program winner, Jerry James due to him killing an enforcer and winning the game.

There were times where Leonard wished that he could be chosen to be an enforcer when he turned eighteen. And though he was still only seventeen, he figured that this was as close as he was going to get.

"Are you mocking them?" Leonard asked more than a little annoyed the the boy's choice of attire.

"W- What?" The boy asked, confused.

"I asked if you're mocking them." Leonard asked. "The enforcers. Dressing up like them because it gives you some protection?"

"No no man," the boy said as he waved his hands wildly. "I just wanted some protection against the other kids. I support the enforcers. I support the government. I'm a patriot, really."

Leonard took a better look at the kid, and he did indeed look more like a supporter than anything else. With a blue dress shirt, crisp jeans, and what appeared to be an expensive haircut, he looked like a casual rich boy out for a night in town. Just like himself.

Leonard decided to relax a little, but still pointed the James Bond gun at the boy.

"Unload your weapon and come to me with the barrel pointed away from me." Leonard demanded.

"I can't." The boy told him.

"The hell do you mean you can't?" Leonard asked.

"I literally can't," the boy explained. "It's not even real." Leonard then saw a jet of water fly out of the barrel of the gun, finding that it was just a really realistic looking water gun. Leonard gestured the boy to come towards him, and the boy did. When they got close enough the boy handed him the water gun. "I've got nothing else dude. That water gun was for show until I got something real."

"Fair enough." Leonard said. "What do you think of The Program?"

"Why?" The boy asked in confusion.

"Just answer the damn question," Leonard demanded before he pointed the gun at the boy's head. "Answer wrong and you'll find your head splattered on the street."

"Okay okay." The boy said loudly as he jumped back with his hands up. "It's a good way to get rid of the trouble makers. There. Happy?"

"Very." Leonard said with a smile, glad to find something like minded like him. He had seen and heard too many of the pussy, pro-peace variety back at Horizons. Leonard lowered his gun, and the boy began to visibly relax. "Name?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really. Come on, want to help cleanse the country?"

"Sure." The boy told him, a smile visible behind the surgical mask.

"Good. Let's go."

"You lead." The boy said.

"Why should I be in front in the line of danger?" Leonard asked.

"You're the one with the working gun." The boy explained.

"Touche." Leonard acknowledged before he turned and began walking down the streets, looking for prey. And now he had a lacky with him. Leonard personally didn't care whether he lived or died, but it was nice to have someone rich like him around that knew how the world worked and supported The Program. He didn't expect much out of him as Leonard was willing to sacrifice him at a moment's notice if it meant his survival. He was going to help make the country great again, and if a few needed to die for him to do so, so be it. The couple of friends he had made at Horizons didn't care if he got chosen and died in The Program, and he in turn felt the same way. This guy was no different.

 _The Program battlefield is just like the real world._ Leonard thought. _I'm getting everything I want, because it was meant to be._

"So what's the plan?" The boy asked as he trailed behind Leonard.

"We find other students and kill them. With the two of us, we can blow this place sky high."

"Yeah... About that." The boy said oddly calmly.

Leonard processed that tone of voice as a point forty four magnum round drilled a hole through the back of his head and exited his nose with a loud boom, causing his face to bloom into a devilish red lilly. Blood, bone, and brain sprayed out of his skull like a meaty stew before his body collapsed onto the ground with a thud.

Keith Morton of the enforcers would have felt bad about killing someone from Horizons, but knew that the government had no use for Leonard Duma as a winner.

Keith marveled at how his plan had gone perfectly. The retard hadn't even checked him for additional weapons, and missed the point forty four magnum shoved in the back of his belt. Of course, if Leonard had found the weapon he wouldn't have hesitated to fight back.

Working as a volunteer nurse in Nevada, Keith had come to learn how to defend himself when confronted. Something that was common among the rebellious youth that came to the hospital he worked at and on the streets.

He had seen stabbings, gunshot wounds, drug overdoses, and injuries that suggested torture, so seeing Leonard's face blown off wasn't anything new to him.

 _I wanted to find the guy that was screaming, but he's not screaming anymore. Lost my chance, maybe someone else finished him off? Maybe he's alive? Did someone help him? Self aid?_

Picking up Leonard's Walther PPK and leaving behind the useless water pistol, Keith continued down the path, looking for more people.


	7. Saviour

By all accounts, she didn't think that she belonged in The Program.

The Program was supposed to help the country become stable again while decreasing the crime that ran rampant through the streets. It was supposed to discourage the violent youth from committing crimes and get people to become less sympathetic to those that were part of the problem in troubled America. Yet here she was, in The Program, fighting for her life because of the horrible deeds of others.

In it's five years, going on six, she didn't see The Program doing anything to improve the country other than to glorify the violence. Kind of like how some movies give a romantic view on gangsters and how it made young people want to join a gang for all the benefits it seemed to give out.

It was evidenced out in the streets of California with the number of gang members and the number of violent protesters against the Youth Reconstruction Program.

And though there were still those that protested peacefully, the country was still a cesspool of violence and turmoil, and their solution was to have kids fight each other to the death on live TV? To Mary Grace King of West Shores High School, it was probably one of the stupidest things the government could have thought of as a solution. So while she knew what The Program was and knew that there were people that supported it, she didn't give it anymore power than it already had by not paying for it.

 _What did I do to deserve to be dragged into here?_ The girl with mid-length, dirty blonde hair asked. _Out of everyone that could have been selected, I had to be chosen. Out of all the murderers, arsonists, rapists, and other criminals the government could have selected, they had to choose the girl that covered her boyfriend's house with toilet paper because he was being a massive dick? That doesn't seem right._

At first, she wasn't even going to give the sadistic viewers the satisfaction of watching her play, but then she heard the first gunshot in the distance and decided that even if she wasn't going to play for pleasure, she needed to at least not become a target. Or at least an easy one.

By the time the second gunshot, a much louder and more power sounding one at that, rang out into the air, the girl had found some equipment in someone's garage that she felt comfortable with. It made her feel a little more safe and thought that with it on, she would discourage some of the psychos that decided to take advantage of the situation from attacking her without thinking twice.

Passing a window that showed off her reflection, she caught a quick glimpse of herself. Her broad shoulders and toned arms only seemed to increase in size due to the goalie chest pads she had slipped over her torso and arms while the used and slightly worn hockey mask made her look somewhat menacing.

She had heard that people around her school said that she looked a little intimidating, not helped by her choice of wearing ripped jeans and black combat boots. If she had a machete in her hands instead of a hockey stick, some might have mistaken her for Jason Voorhees. If Jason was only five foot seven and female.

The equipment was no bulletproof vest, but she figured that it would protect her against some basic blunt weapons and stabs to the chest with pocketknives.

 _As long as I don't run into some psycho with a gun, I should be fine._

Mary Grace had also searched a couple of the houses in search for food and water. Especially water as it was an athlete's best friend aside from Gatorade. And while the temperature wasn't that hot yet, she knew that it was only going to get hotter as the day went on and she had to run from place to place.

So far she had found a couple bottles of water that she kept in a small sports bag across her back. Still, she was hoping to find some more.

Going along the dirt road at a steady job, Mary Grace found another house and went towards it's entrance before busting in, holding her weapon up high in case someone else was inside already. And though she didn't see or hear anyone else, she remained cautious as she searched the house for valuables. She managed to find a some canned food and some more bottles of water along with a functioning flashlight that would no doubt be useful when night came.

Looking through the house, Mary Grace couldn't help but notice some of the pictures that stood on some of the dressers and tables. She kind of felt like a thief that broke into people's homes to steal things. She had heard that when The Program aired, families were temporarily evicted from their homes so that the chosen students could fight. It made her feel a little guilty, and there was that sense that she didn't belong in the house as she was an uninvited guest.

The girl picked up a graduation photo of one of the occupants and muttered to herself that he was kind of cute before she shook out all the feelings she had been feeling before she placed the photo back where it belonged. Hopefully it would still be intact by the time the game finished.

 _What did that winner do? The one... Ummm... Nelson or something. Was he the one that threw a molotov cocktail at that one house and burnt it and the two people inside?_ Mary Grace pushed aside the thoughts of the dead students aside, still feeling sorry for them, and thought of the aftermath for the true occupants of that home. _Did they get their stuff replaced? Did the government help pay for repairs? What happened to them?_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone screaming. It was a high pitched squeal and it sounded close. Mary Grace stopped and listened, hearing nothing for several seconds before it came again. It was very close. If she had guessed right it was probably the next house over.

She felt her teeth being pressed together as thoughts came to her. _That was a girl's scream. So someone's chasing a girl. Probably defenseless_. She knew that it wasn't a good idea to go, that she should leave or hide while she still had the chance. But she couldn't stand the idea of some murderous asshole taking advantage of someone defenseless. It reminded her too much of the bullies at school.

Not even hesitating, the athletic girl booked it out of the house she was in and ran towards the house the screaming was coming from.

Mary Grace ran through the front door, and when she came in sight of the living room she saw what she had been expecting. There was a girl she recognized. Pretty hard to miss as her hair was dyed blue while her bangs were a dark purple. She was hiding behind a wide television set that was the only barrier between her and her attacker. Something that made Mary Grace freeze for a second.

The girl's attacker was wearing something a SWAT team officer might wear on a raid. A navy blue uniform underneath a black tactical vest, black knee and elbow pads, a beetle black helmet, black gloves and black combat boots. And to finish off the look, a black balaclava and reflective goggles.

Mary Grace thought that it was one of the cops that had dragged her kicking and screaming. But then she remembered that real cops didn't come into The Program. It was just another kid like her playing dress up. Except this kid held a DVD player in her hands and was trying to smash it over her schoolmate's head.

The kid in the police outfit seemed to tire of the game of ring around the rosie as he kicked the television set, causing it to tople onto the girl, making her fall to the floor due to the weight.

Mary Grace then snapped out of her stupor and charged.

"Hey asshole!" She screamed as she swung her hockey stick back like a baseball bat. The SWAT clothed kid spun on his heels in surprise in time to see Mary Grace swing her weapon at him. The police kid managed to hold out the DVD player as a shield, taking the blunt of the weapon, but Mary Grace didn't even slow down as she shoulder checked him with all her might.

Being on the swim team since she was six and playing other sports with her fellow varsity friends, Mary Grace was stronger than the average girl. It showed as the sixteen year old athlete and her combatant slammed into the back sliding door and made it spiderweb greatly.

The masked cop gave out a pained grunt that bordered on a yell as his back hit the glass.

The two masked combatants then smashed their blunt instruments into each other. The DVD playing bashed Mary Grace in the face, while the small end of the hockey stick hit the fake cop in the ribs.

The pain was mediocre at most, but it was enough to momently stun the two as Mary Grace reeled back from just being bashed in the face. Even with the hockey mask protecting her, the attack still hurt like a bitch.

Both of them recovered at the same time, but the cop was the first to make his move. The cop threw his DVD player at Mary Grace, who just barely dodged it as she felt the cord scrape the side of her face. At the same time, the fake cop charged at her. The athlete swung the hockey stick at him, but he got too close to her too fast.

The fake cop grabbed the hockey stick and the two began to fight for the weapon. The two of them jerked and pulled, but all it seemed to do was make them move around the room.

Mary Grace then got the idea to headbutt the cop in the face since he was only about two inches taller than her. So she did, causing the cop's head to reel back. Only for his head to come back and hit her face.

It didn't hurt her that much, but because the edge of his helmet hit her mask, it caused her to move back, allowing the fake police officer to push her into a kitchen counter. With her back pressing against the top edge of the counter, the fake cop had the advantage of leverage. It allowed him to be able to effectively overpower her and force the sturdy piece of wood down onto her throat.

Mary Grace could feel her air circulation being cut off, but no matter how hard she fought back, she couldn't overpower him back. The more she struggled, the more it seemed useless.

That is, until the vibrantly coloured hair girl smashed a vase over the police officer's head. It was made of cheap material and broke easily over his hard helmet, but it was more than enough to have Mary Grace shove him off of her.

She then swung the hockey stick at her attempted murderer, only for him to duck and cause her to hit the girl that had saved her across the face, knocking her to the floor again. Mary Grace could only gasp in shock. "I'm so sor-" Her apology was cut short by a strong punch to the gut, causing her to cough once, twice, then a fall to the knees.

Her attacker then gave out a swift kick to the mouth, causing Mary Grace to yell as she collapsed to the ground. The fake cop then tried to rip her hockey stick from her grip, but she wouldn't let him. He only struggled for three seconds before he gave up and ran off, knowing that it was better of to withdraw.

"Hey!" Mary Grace shouted as she got up, using her stick as a crutch. "Get back here!" Her mouth hurt as she yelled, but she kept on doing it anyway when she found that she had been too slow and her attacker had disappeared. "Son of a bitch!"

The moaning of the girl she had saved brought her back to the reason she had came in the first place.

Going back to the girl, Mary Grace saw that there was no blood coming out of her mouth. Or anywhere for that matter. That was good, right? "Hey. You all right?" She asked before she heard a scream for an answer.

"Please please please don't kill me." The multi-colour hair girl pleaded.

"I'm not going to kill you Chloe." Mary Grace told her. Hearing her name only seemed to scare the girl more.

"How- How do you know my name?"

"It's me," Mary Grace said as she removed her hockey mask. "Mary Grace."

"Oh..." Chloe said with a slight chuckle. "Hey King."

Chloe, just moments prior to Mary Grace arriving, had been chased by one masked person when she had found a bottle of water and a bag of bread. The masked figure had chased her with the DVD player, trying to break her skull open, as evidenced by several dents in the walls. So when Mary Grace showed up in her hockey gear, she thought that it was two enforcers fighting over who to kill her. Imagine her surprise to find out that it was one of her school mates. "Thought I was done for there. Thanks for saving my bacon."

"Yeah, no problem." The athlete said to the well known partier. While Mary Grace was known to go to parties with her fellow jocks, Chloe Rocha did her own kind of partying with her own friends. While Mary Grace and her friends might do some underage drinking sometimes, Chloe was known for knowing where the best raves were when they were in town. And with raves came drugs and alcohol.

Chloe wasn't doing any violent crimes, but because of her drug use, wasn't she part of the problem in America's youth? Mary Grace didn't know what she thought of Chloe. Even so, she didn't regret saving her and lent a hand to help her up. "Sorry for hitting you." Mary Grace added. Chloe just shrugged.

"So I've been thinking big girl. Because of what just happened, how about we, oh, I don't know, team up or something. We could be like super girl and power girl. One in the same yet different."

"How are we the same?" Mary Grace asked. To which Chloe shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know. We're both girls in which we're good at what we like?"

"Which is?"

"Helping people."

"Sure. Sure you do." Mary Grace said with sarcasm. _How is hooking people up at raves helping people any? Doesn't it only help fuel the drug crave?_ "Help them with their drug habits."

"I do, King." Chloe retorted quite defensively.

"Whatever you say Chloe."

"I know that you're a good person King, but sometimes, can you think before you open your damn mouth?"

* * *

Groaning slightly as he took off his combat helmet, the boy that dressed as a SWAT officer rubbed that back of his neck and swung it side to side until he got the crink out of his neck.

He hadn't expected for a second girl to come to that girl's aid, and as a result, he had lost a victim. Still, he didn't think it was a big deal as there were still plenty of other people running around. Some of them deserving death more than others. The two girls that had attacked him were of low priority in the long run, but because the punk girl had attacked him first by throwing dishes at him, he had to retaliate. He couldn't make himself and his fellow enforcers look weak and apathetic. It would send the wrong message.

There were those that said that he shouldn't have ran away, as it would make him and his allies look weak, but if he had to choose between life and limb or survival, he'd choose survival any day. Two against one for no other reason other than pride was just asking for a death sentence, and he had seen what pride before reason had done in his home state of New Mexico.

Being the son of a cop, Ethan Gazaway was used to hearing people calling the police cowards as they usually called for backup and had to restrain people using superior numbers. But weren't those that they were trying to arrest using even more dirty tactics than they were? Sneaking up behind them before they shot them in the back of the head? Using numbers when it benefited them?

Even so, it got criminals off the street and kept people safe. Something he couldn't say about the gangs when they fought each other in the streets. _At least cops don't deliberately put the lives of the innocent in danger without a care. And who else was going to kept the civilians safe?_ He didn't see any gang members stepping up to the challenge.

Ethan placed his helmet back on and adjusted his goggles before he went out to search for more people.


	8. Helpers

Hewil felt out of place and in a world of pain as he came back into the world. His entire head was in agony and he could taste the bitterness of blood. Groaning, he slowly sat himself up as he thought of how the entire thing was wrong. He thought of how he was supposed to be the one on top of everything, like he had been his entire life.

At home, he was able to get away with things because it was his birth right as a man to get what he wanted out of women. At home, he was able to get his mother and younger sister to cook, clean, and serve him how he saw fit, and if they did anything that didn't please them, he'd beat them. They could cry all they wanted, but it didn't change a damn thing. He was the man of the house, and they were only stupid women. Tools to be used.

Society didn't want to agree with him as they discouraged that kind of activity. It didn't stop him from doing what he believed in. He'd bully the girls at his school, he'd beat the girls at his school, and let his opinions be known to anyone that would listen.

He'd spread the word by orchestrating music with his friends and hand out CDs to people to listen to.

To say that the school wasn't pleased was an understatement as their private security would often try to catch him and his friends. But they were too stupid to catch them. Either that or they knew better than to mess with him and his mates.

His two friends were huge and burly, and it made people avoid taking action against him. The women were weak and too cowardly to stand up for themselves, so they ran to the boys to help them. But there was a reason the bigger men were always in charge. They were more powerful than the weaklings. So when the boys came to fight for the girls, Hewil got his muscular friends and got them to beat up the would be heroes.

That made him more powerful than anyone in the school. The staff and security were shit compared to him and his friends. He only wished that his band, the W.A.T.S, A.K.A, Women Are Too Stupid, would take off so that the true worldly views could spread near and far, but he figured that it was only a matter of time before society saw past the lies of women's rights and those that defended them.

He was pretty sure that his father would be proud of him as he had left when he found that his mother was having a daughter. He understood the world, and that was why he left the whores when he found that he'd be getting a second one.

He was a man, that bastard that was defending that little bitch was a man, he should have known that by teaming up with him that they would have taken all the whores and made them die for them. After all, The Program was a game that was beyond entertaining. Watching the girls break down at a concept that separated the weak from the strong. It made Hewil think of just how powerless the females were without the aid of males.

So imagine his disbelief when two females actually managed to win The Program. In a situation to divide between the worthy and strong from the weak and disposable, two useless sluts managed to win? He wondered what the world was coming to.

Hewil's eyes opened a crack, and through the hazy vision he could make out a figure standing in front of him. He blinked a couple more times before his vision was clear once again.

It was someone clad in a brown hunting jacket, drab green trousers, and brown hiking boots. She also wore a brown neck warmer that was covering her nose, mouth, and neck. To top it all off was an olive green trapper hat that covered her ears.

Though most of her body was covered with worn clothing, the length of her black hair and from what he could see of her face, he could see that it was a girl of asian decent. Probably a jap rat or gook. And why the fuck was she staring at him?

He hated that she was staring at him and decided to take action, even if his mouth and side of the face hurt like a mother fucker.

"What the fuck you looking at bitch?" He spat, allowing blood to pour from his mouth as he spoke.

The girl, he now noticed was holding a screwdriver in one hand, pointed to something behind him. She then pointed to him with the screwdriver and then pointed back to the thing behind him. "I'm not doing a damn thing for-" He was cut short by the girl kicking him in the face, sending agony through his face as blood sprayed from his mouth and his head once again hit the side of the dresser. The girl then repeated her demand.

Hewil didn't like being ordered around by a girl when it should be him ordering her around. "Fuck you." Hewil told her as even more blood spilled from his mouth. The girl shook her head, like she was disappointed with him before she plunged the screwdriver into his left leg. Hewil screamed as he felt the tool scrape against his bone before it was mercilessly pulled out.

The girl then repeated her demand with the bloody tool, and though Hewil didn't want to comply with the silent female, he didn't want to get stabbed again.

With his pride and dignity in pieces, Hewil slowly stood up, finding it hard to even get up and stand with an injured leg.

The female forced him up the stairs of the aging farm house until he was on the second floor balcony.

Hewil looked at the horizon to see that it was approaching noon, wondering what the slut had in store for him. He got his answer before he even asked. With seemingly inhuman speed, an orange extension cord tied in a bowline knot looped around his neck. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, the girl reached under his waist, and flipped him over the balcony railing with ease and sent him plummeting to the ground. He didn't make it far as the loop around his neck stopped around three feet from the balcony and yanked on his neck suddenly.

His neck didn't snap from the sudden halt, so he was left dangling in the air being hung to death. Hewil struggled and clawed at the makeshift noose, but he couldn't get loose. He pulled at the end of the electrical cord that was swinging in front of his face, but it only served to make the noose tighter.

Hewil's face went red, then purple. Within two minutes of struggling he passed out. Another minute passed before he died from asphyxiation.

Above him, Raelyn Yokoyama of the enforcers looked at the horizon in front of her, making her think of her home in rural Florida. Very rural as it was a swamp land out there that most people wanted to stay away from unless they were tourists wanting to look at the wildlife. And even then they left quickly because of all the insects and generally not being a pleasant place to live. But to Raelyn, it was home. A place to be away from all the chaos of modern life as she and her family lived a simple life of surviving outdoors.

Most people would call her a survivalist, but she didn't do her activities for fun, to her, it was a way of life.

Raelyn pulled the body up, wondering if the boy was truly dead, or just playing possum. When he was within striking range, Raelyn stabbed him in the chest with her screwdriver and removed it from the body. There was no reaction. Satisfied, Raelyn let the body drop again before she walked away.

As the enforcer made her way down the stairs, she knew that some people in their homes were wondering why she had waited so long to kill him. She could have stabbed him to death with her screwdriver, drive it through his head, in one ear and out the other. Simple.

But Raelyn wanted to make the students running around more fearful for their lives than they already were. It made them more stupid. They weren't used to situations like this. Or maybe they were if they were from one of the more violent areas of America. Either way, seeing a dead body hanging outside the house would do wonders to people's psych.

Another thing she waited so long for him to wake up was because she didn't want to haul his fat ass up the stairs to the balcony. She was strong, sure, but why waste your energy when you didn't have to?

Exiting the house with her supplies in tow, the girl walked off, continuing her job.

* * *

As the two girls discovered as they walked the streets, they were the same yet different.

While Mary Grace King helped people at West Shores High by standing by those that were picked on by bullies and sat with kids that seemed lonely, becoming like a guardian to them and a guide to high school for new freshmen, Chloe Rocha was someone that helped street kids and those that were addicted to drugs.

Mary Grace was surprised by the news when Chloe had told her, as she just figured that the party girl went to the rave scene to do the drugs. Instead, she helped the at risk youth and tried to prevent them from diving deeper into addiction.

The place that Chloe worked tried to help the at risk youths find jobs and stay away from crimes in order to survive.

"Guess I was wrong about you." Mary Grace said as they were looking through a convenience store that was stocked with some food and drinks. Honestly, the two girls were surprised that it hadn't already been stripped clean by now, but were grateful that they had found the cache of supplies before someone else had. Though she did with that the store had stocked up on ice packs to help her face. "I mean, looking at you, I would never have guessed that you were that kind of street worker."

"Never judge a book by it's cover, King." Chloe told her as she lit up a cigarette that she had found in the case behind the cashier counter. "I mean, I may light up a joint every now and again, but I'd never try the hard stuff. I've seen the shit that happens with that stuff."

Indeed, Chloe had seen first hand what that stuff did to people. The main reason why she had even began helping kids kick the habit was because her older brother had tried cocaine once at a party, and instantly got hooked.

It didn't take long before he started to steal from his family and prostitute himself in order to fuel his drug craze. Luckily, he had managed to get off the horrible drug and continue on with his life, but Chloe really didn't want that sort of thing to happen again. And the anguish she felt, she didn't want other families to feel if they could help it. So she started to volunteer for outreach programs with her brother.

While she wasn't optimistic enough to think that she could save everyone, she knew that what she was doing was important work, because someone had to try. Right? And even if she helped one person, it was one less family that needed to needlessly suffer.

It ruined families and contributed to the problem plaguing America.

With gangs fighting over turf, the hospitals having to respond to drug overdoses, and the resources wasted on them instead of something more productive, Chloe could easily see why the government had allowed the Youth Reconstruction Act to come into effect. Even if there were people that protested and didn't agree with the method.

Because of her job, she was part of the minority of youths that were allowed to be out past the government installed curfew aimed at her age group. She had more responsibility than those within her age group, but she also had more freedom. Freedom that she didn't abuse. And with her job, she got to know the local cops and private security guards pretty well. They were able to tell her what to watch out for and where to look for clients, and she was able to supply them with warnings and possible locations of interests as well.

They helped each other in mutual interest as they wanted to clean up the streets and keep people safe.

"So what's it like out there?" Mary Grace asked, wondering what it was like to be out after hours since she was one to mostly stick to the rules.

"It can be scary," Chloe told her as she blew smoke out of her mouth. "I mean, who wouldn't be scared after hours with all the fucked up things going on? But hey, California isn't so bad compared to other places. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn't want to be in places such as Virginia or New York right now. And hell, Las Vegas is close to us. I heard that emergency services are being pushed to the limit there."

"That bad?"

"Yep."

Though truth be told, Chloe would like to transfer to Las Vegas to try and help those at risk youths. Sure she still cared about her home state, but there was a bigger problem in the gambling state. And if she could lower the drug trade, that was less power to the gangs and would help lower the crime rate. More power would go to the police and things might calm down a little.

So while she might not have as much power or influence as the second or third program winners, she did think that one person could make a difference. Jerry James of Georgia was a radio host that helped those grieving with loss and struggles while encouraging them to seek help, while also campaigning for better educations in schools. Kendra Edwards of Michigan on the other hand had donated her winnings to the police departments of her state and was a spokes person for teens with unwanted pregnancies and a couple other support systems.

The two girls continued to load up on food and drinks when they heard the door opening due to the bell above the door being rung. The two girls spun around to see a hispanic looking guy holding a plastic bag in one hand, like them, but unlike them he held a handgun in his other hand.

"Drop the bags and face the wall!" The hispanic teen ordered. "Do it! Now!"

The two girls were momentously frozen as Marcos Sánchez approached them. He didn't see them as a threat at they didn't seem to have any firearms, but he didn't approach too quickly just in case.

The girls hadn't moved for nearly four seconds when Marcos fired off a shot that sounded near deafening in the confined space of the store. The bullet made a bag of potato chips explode, startling the two girls. "I ain't fucking around senoritas! Get your face to the wall or find a bullet in it!"

The girls minds came back to earth with that gunshot. They didn't have a way to fight back very well considering that the only weapon they had was Mary Grace's hockey stick. As for defense, Mary Grace didn't think that her hockey pads would protect her from a bullet. And Chloe stood no chance with her street clothes.

"Run to the back door on my command." Chloe whispered to her ally. While she didn't feel that it was guarantied to work, she just knew that the boy was going to shot them in the back if they obeyed him.

Chloe wasn't the bravest person ever, but survival instincts was coursing through her. And having to trek the streets in the middle of the night and meet clients in drug dens and shady places, she had gotten more or less used to the feeling of danger, even if she didn't want it to find her.

Mary Grace, however, was still remembering when she had gotten stuck in the middle of a gang fight. Until then, she had never gotten into the middle of any kind of serious trouble. She had been beyond scared, and she thought that the only reason she had gotten out of there alive was because she had picked up the gun of a dead gang member and used it to defend herself. Sure she shot mostly wildly, but it kept people away from her until the police arrived.

"What?" Mary Grace asked before she felt Chloe grab the back of her hockey pads.

"Now!" Chloe shouted before she pulled Mary Grace down behind a row a snacks. A split second later, two gunshots rang out. One hit the wall behind the girls, the second hit the glass door of the industrial sized beverage cooler.

"Hey!" Marcos yelled as Chloe was practically shoving Mary Grace through the aisle and towards the back exit.

The two girls ran through the back door hard enough to make it slam against the wall, hard, as Marcos fired another three bullets at them. One hit harmlessly against the wall, the second hit the floor near Chloe's foot, the third tore through the bill of the backwards hat Mary Grace wore as they turned the corner.

Marcos, not wanting them to get away, chase after them, running across the store until he to hit open the door and turned to the direction the two girls ran to. Marcos fired his Glock twenty two an additional four times. By the fourth shot, the girls had disappeared onto another street. "Fuck." Marcos muttered.

 _So much for not wanting to waste bullets_. He thought. _Maybe I should have finished that first guy._

With those girls still alive, it was just two more people that could potentially kill him. Still, he figured it wasn't a total waste as he looked at the cache of food and drinks he had came upon.


	9. Wounded

He wondered if he could keep her safe.

Though he had never watched The Program on TV, he had heard enough about it in school and saw enough video clips of it on the internet to know that it was anything but safe. Get some frighted kids into some unknown location in God only knows where, tell them that only one may leave alive, and that if they wanted to be that person, they had to make sure that everyone else was dead.

Sure there were some kids that would refuse to play, but things would change very quickly if they encountered another kid that was willing to make sure that they'd be the one leaving The Program alive. To make things worse, those running The Program surgically installed some kind of device into the students to make sure that they didn't try to rebel against The Program. He had seen a clip of a victim of said device on the internet once.

During the first ever program, one guy got pissed off at the cameras and blew one of them to pieces with a shotgun. What he didn't realize was that the people running the game would activate the device within him.

The device, the same thing that they surgically installed into the high risk offenders in prison, made the guy's blood pressure get so high that his veins started to bulge. Soon after, blood came out of his eyes, nose, and mouth before he dropped dead. You tried to stop The Program or you interfered with the broadcast, you died a relatively slow and very painful death.

But to make things even worse than that, they hired killer kids to make sure that the audience got their bloodshed and that the kids were encouraged to end the game as soon as possible. The enforcers made everyone get on edge as they hunted their victims until the game's end.

So you had kidnapped kids, an isolated area, a death battle, no way to escape, and murderous kids working on behalf of the government. Something sick if Oliver thought about it, but with the youth crisis going on in the country, the teen could hardly blame them for it. After all, every other effort of theirs failed, and things hadn't improved much.

Desperate for money and for the crime to reduce, they activated the Y.R.A. At first he had wondered what kind of sick people would pay to watch The Program, but there was a reason people watched war and horror movies. And then there were some that paid for The Program, but didn't watch it, they just paid for it help support the government. And then there were those like Leonard, who enjoyed watching it.

Oliver wondered if that guy was enjoying himself now that he was in the show he liked to watch so much. He didn't really care what Lara said about teaming up with the others from Horizons, he could deal with Aris and her acts of rebellion at school, but if for a second he thought Leonard was going to kill him or Lara he'd turn his head into paste.

Oliver wasn't a killer by nature, and he still wondered if he'd actually be able to do the deed when it came time to do it. He had been psyching himself for the past couple hours or so, and he was sure that he could do it, but it didn't make him feel comfortable.

Adjusting his newly found cowboy hat, Oliver wondered if making a new persona would make things easier. And if there was a sign that the world wanted Oliver to get rid of his morals, it was the weapons they had found when searching the farm houses. Oliver was now decked out with a Glock seventeen pistol shoved between the back of his belt, a single shot twenty gauge sporting shotgun currently in his hands, and sticking outside of the backpack on his back was his baseball bat. Lara herself was holding a Glock seventeen herself along with a simple hunting knife in a hard plastic holder.

"How's the bug spray holding up?" Oliver asked his not true sister, wanting to stop the thoughts of murder in his head.

"Holding up all right." Lara told him they continued to look out into the open area from the second story balcony. Her newly found akubra hat helped keep the sun out of her eyes.

If there was one thing that they both weren't expecting, it was to be fighting bugs as much as they were. There were a lot of those suckers in the area, and Oliver was glad that Lara had found some bug spray to keep the pests away.

"You still think that we should look for Aris and Leonard?" Oliver asked.

"Like I said, there's no one else we can trust more than them. And it won't just be the two of us anymore."

"I still don't like Leonard." Oliver muttered as he looked at his shotgun. He had no doubt that if Leonard got a hold of a gun he'd use it against them, and love it. Probably try to team up with the enforcers and love it even more as he had heard him saying how The Program got rid of society's scum. And while Oliver had no doubt that some people deserved to die, there were plenty of others that didn't. "But Aris might be okay."

"So we'll look for her?" Lara asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Oliver sighed. "But where are we going to find her?"

"Probably not here." Lara answered. "I for one was thinking of going to where all the buildings were, but decided to come here instead."

"I'm guessing that's where near everyone else is going to be." Oliver sighed heavily. _Great. Into the danger zone. But then again, if someone manages to find a sniper rifle, this place isn't going to be too safe either._ "Just, be careful, all right?" Oliver said as he motioned his head towards Lara's handgun, tucked behind the waistband of her skirt.

The two of them really wanted to find some new clothes, but their luck only came with finding hats to keep the sun out of their eyes.

"Don't worry," Lara said with a smile. "I'm with you."

Oliver wanted to say that she shouldn't rely on him but he'd do everything he could to keep her safe, but when the two of them came out of the room and were about to descend the stairs, Oliver noticed someone else at the bottom of the stairs. A rough looking girl with short, light brown hair.

The two of them staired at each other in surprise, not expecting each other in the house they were searching. "What's the hold up?" Lara asked, wondering why Oliver had suddenly stopped. Her small height couldn't see over or through her taller friend.

That was when the two older students snapped out of their temporary trance and made their moves. The girl quickly raised her weapon, a Webley Mk four revolver, and fired a shot just as Oliver shoved Lara out of the way, taking a bullet to the left shoulder in a spray of blood and a howl. Oliver stumbled backwards before his back hit the wall and was threatening to slide down.

As the girl pulled the revolver hammer back for a second shot, Oliver got his shotgun to hip level and fired off a shot one handed, causing the weapon to fly backwards and the stock of the gun to fly into his gut. It knocked the wind out of him as he collapsed onto the floor, a blood trail streaking the wall. Oliver's shot missed and dotted some holes in the wall. Oliver was surprised that the shotgun wasn't as loud or low sounding as he expected it to be. He was even more surprised to see that the girl wasn't shooting at him anymore.

Oliver palmed the entrance hole where the point thirty eight revolver bullet had hit him and could feel the hot blood pouring out of his wound. It hurt like hell and he was very, very close to crying. It took all of his willpower to not scream his head off, but he was hyper ventilating in order to do so. "Oh God! Oliver!" Lara screamed as the last seven or so seconds came into focus in her mind. "Oh God! Oh God!"

Oliver, mean while, could only continue to hyper ventilate as he turned his head towards Lara. His green blazer rapidly turning a brownish colour from the source and his eyes full of complete fear and agony.

Lara didn't know what to do other than to press her hands onto the bullet wounds. "Oliver. Oliver." She said with panic in her voice. "Everything's going to be all right. You hear me? Everything's going to be all right. Just stay with me. Stay with me."

Lara's panic only increased as she felt the hot liquid gush onto her hands, and she was pretty sure pressure was building up in the wound due to feeling wet bubbles on her palms. Lara pulled her palms away in disgust, but that disgust swiftly turned into guilt as she saw the blood pour out of Oliver's shoulder like a diabolical leak.

The fifteen year old girl wondered what to do when she ripped her school sweater off her waist and wrapped it around Oliver's shoulder as tightly as she could. Oliver screamed at the pressure she was putting on his injured limb, but she continued to tighten it so that it could clot the wound.

She then tied it tight and noticed that her sweater was turning from a green to an ugly dark brown. "Don't die." Lara pleaded as she shook her friend. "Please. Don't die."

* * *

Toph was in a world of pain.

After getting shot in the thigh, he had laid there, screaming for what seemed like forever before he dragged himself to the nearest house. Toph, after his mind became a little more clear after the fog was raised from his mind, knew that he needed to stop himself from lossing too much blood otherwise he'd die from blood loss.

He dragged himself through the dirt, leaving behind a blood trail like some kind of hellish slug. The entire time, his leg felt like it was behind eaten alive by angry fire ants. It was impossible to move his leg, and that just made things even harder as the limb became dead weight.

Toph finally made it to a house and wrapped his leg tightly with plastic wrap. He couldn't believe that he had to try and wrap his leg as good as his mom wrapped sandwiches.

He thought of his mom, how she'd probably be freaking out at him bleeding for more than one reason. One was, obviously, because he was dying. Another was because he was getting the floor of this house all dirty and bloody, not to mention that his wound probably contained millions of germs, of which only one of them needed to be bad in order to die of infection. Toph would have really liked to have washed it out with water or something, but because he was so light headed he figured he didn't have the time to make sure the wound was completely safe.

 _But hopefully good enough. I mean, bleeding blood helps clean out the system._

Toph couldn't believe the situation he was in. He hadn't expected the police to come for him, so he tried to escape. He failed to do that, so he thought of a plan to win The Program. He wanted to find a gun, and from there, it was kill everyone that got in your way.

But he had found a knife instead, and he thought that while it was a set back, he could make it work. Find someone with a gun, take them out with the knife. But that didn't go very well either.

So after that disastrous event, Toph had crawled to safety, wrapped his wound, and found safety within a bed room closet. He didn't think it was the most adequate of shelters, but he was desperate.

That lead him to sleep until noon, though by all accounts, he should have, and very well could have, been out longer.

Toph wanted to see how his leg was doing as the plastic wrapped around his thigh was more red than it had been when he had fell asleep, but because he had abandoned his knife and he didn't want the bleeding to get any worse, he decided to keep it on.

Toph tried to stand up, but it quickly dawned on him that even just standing was a monstrous task as his left leg always seemed to give out at the slightest bit of applied weight.

 _Man, if I win this, college is going to be a bitch because of this leg. It has a chance of healing as it missed the bone, somehow, but if I become a cripple then god will it suck. I can just imagine all the stairs now._

It was a weird thing to be thinking of with a bullet shot leg, but this wasn't the first time someone had left Toph in physical pain. He was regularly beaten at Desert Sands Secondary because those that weren't as smart as him liked to pick on him to stroke their own egos. They were lacking something that he had, and they felt inferior to him because of his smarts and because he was actually going to go somewhere in the world.

They didn't like his snarky comebacks, and because they wanted to be seen as the tough alpha males in the school, they couldn't let that humiliation stand. So they did the only thing they knew how to do. They beat him with their fists.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. But Toph usually walked away with a smile as he knew that he had won the fight. They wouldn't think of a better comeback, so they beat him. They didn't like that he was actually doing something with his life, so they beat him. They had to find some way to feel like they were important in some way, and those that threatened that were beaten.

He knew that when he got out of here alive, he was going to go to the best god damn college he could find. It was where he was meant to be. Having gotten straight A grades since he was small, he deserved it. And it was destiny as he was the one and only child his parents managed to get. They got him everything he needed to help make his dreams a reality.

He was going to get what he deserved. He was going to win The Program, and going to get what he deserved.

* * *

If Hunter could have gotten high he wouldn't have hesitated to have gotten high.

The problem was that he didn't have anything in his pockets to help him with that, and he doubted that there would be any kinds of drugs in the area besides alcohol and cigarettes. So to numb the pain of the physical beating he had gotten, and to numb the pain of withdrawal, Hunter continued to drink beer and Jack Daniels.

Hunter had passed out once already, and was starting to drink again.

Coming from a darker side of the community, Hunter Boswell was used to the violence and all it came with in Virginia. The gangs fighting, the police trying to stop them, the rebellious youth and the economic disaster were part of his daily routine.

He hated the gangs, and while he wouldn't say he hated the police they did make his life harder than it needed to be. But that was his family's fault, he figured.

He wanted no part of the gangster lifestyle, but because his mother, father, and older brother were part of a gang and were one of the active drug dealers in the area, Hunter was forced into the gang life.

Hunter would courier drugs and try to survive the delivery as it was common for drug mules to get shot and killed for the products. Or if he was really unlucky, a rival gang member would recognize him and kill him to try and send a message. Maybe they'd just shoot him for fun.

And the cops, he didn't want to land his ass in jail as he had seen the kinds of fucked up people within the prison system.

Feeling fearful outside of your house was rational, but Hunter had to feel fearful within his house as well. His family would shout and punch him for whatever reason they could find, even if he had done everything they wanted to the letter. They'd make him do the most dangerous drug deals in order to try and stay out of harms way for a little longer.

But with the people that frequented the house, acting as wild as his family, it became second nature just to think that everyone was out to get you. And when rival gangs did drive by shootings at your house, threatened you on a near daily bases, and when your family was worried about a raid by the cops or a rival gang, fear just became something natural.

And when drugs were readily available, why wouldn't you want to mentally escape the world for a bit? Hunter's favorite drug was acid since it would let him escape the world for twelve hours or so.

In all honesty, Hunter knew that his family would hurt him if they discovered that he was taking their drugs, but didn't think things could be any worse than they already were. He was proven only slightly wrong when his health declined. But he thought it was kind of worth it to see his family wondering if they had gotten ripped off by their bosses when they were making less profit than they should have been. After all, when your family cares more about profit than human life, you have to find something to make the situation a little bit lighter in nature.

That was another reason that he supported the Youth Reconstruction Program. He didn't really know if it was going to help quell the violence, but it sure as hell made his family's life harder.

His mother and father were afraid of prison and his older brother was afraid of getting executed in the middle of a school yard or in the middle of a sports area in front of people by the cops, becoming another example. His older brother was afraid of getting caught by the cops during curfew. His family was afraid of the tougher jail sentences. It made Hunter happy.

There were a lot of people that rejected the Y.R.A, but with a family like his, Hunter could see the justification.

Hunter continued to enjoy his Jack when he felt a burning sensation in his left hand. Hunter screamed as he discovered a corkscrew had been jabbed into his hand. His assailant twisted the corkscrew, digging it into the wooden counter as it broke the bones in his hand and tore at the flesh.

The boy screamed as blood pooled around his hand. Hunter was about to grab the corkscrew, but a second one found itself in his right hand. Hunter screamed once again as his hand was secured to the checkout counter.

To his side, the one that put the corkscrews in his hands, was a pale skinned, blonde haired girl with thick black glasses. She looked at the damage she had done and was smiling at her handy work.

Hunter continued to struggle feebly when he heard the sound of a knife being snapped open. Hunter looked at the weapon and saw that it was a folding buck knife.

And thought he wouldn't know it, he couldn't have meet a worse person in The Program than Elvira Noire. He didn't know what she was going to do to him, nor did he actually know her, but he accepted his fate and muttered.

"It doesn't matter."

 **A/N: Nobody can wrap food with plastic wrap as good as you're mom.**


	10. Trapped

Even though he was scared out of his mind and knew just what kind of situation he was in, what he still didn't expect to see, as he walked the streets holding a machete, was another boy running out of a store on fire. Screaming.

The boy was practically wailing as he fell to the ground and frantically rolled on the ground to kill the flames that were consuming his body. It was a disturbing wail, almost inhuman it was so filled with misery and suffering. Brad couldn't help but stare at the horrific event. He wanted to help the boy, but he was too scared to even move. It was just one of those things. Like a car crash, you knew what was coming, and couldn't look away.

Brad watched as the flames charred the boy's skin as his screams grew weaker and weaker, until he finally ceased to move and fell silent. The flames however, continued to burn, like the boy's flesh and bone were nothing more than a heap of kindling.

Brad Faulkner couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. Out of everything that he thought he was going to see during his time in The Program, he didn't think that he'd see anything so horrific. Even the body of some, literally, faceless private school student was nothing compared to what he had just seen. Maybe it was because he saw real suffering in front of him and could have done something about it other than watch. Maybe it was because he saw him die. He didn't know, all he knew was that the situation was fucked.

The memory of the boy's screams, the smell of burning flesh, it was too much for the fifteen year old as he vomited onto the road.

 _What the fuck? Someone set him on fire! They didn't just shoot him, or stab him, they had to put him through absolute torture! This isn't Africa, or Pakistan, there's nothing to prove here._ But as soon as he was finished with that thought, another came along in his head. _Of course there's something to prove. It's to install fear into people. A terror tactic just like those rebels and terrorists. And maybe, just maybe, they did it just because they could._

Brad had heard of the gang battles in California, but luckily hadn't seen, or been in, any. He had heard of the aftermath on the news, but that was the extent of it. West Shores High School was a safe environment as well, even if it did have it's troubles at times. He was way out of his element.

The boy looked up just in time to see someone exiting the liquor store. A pale skinned girl with light blonde hair. She wore thick black glasses to blend in with her all black clothes. Black sweater, black leggings, black shoes. Brad would have thought she was a goth girl, but she didn't look like any goth he had ever seen except for the black clothes.

Brad saw that the girl had a smile that he could only describe as a combination of serious and deranged. Like she was seriously enjoying this fucked up situation. It helped that she was holding a whiskey bottle that held a flaming rag in it's neck.

 _I've seen enough horror movies to know what to do in this situation._ Brad screamed to himself before he spun on his heels and ran. Seconds later, he heard glass shatter and felt the heat of fire try to singe him. _When a crazy white girl, pale like an evil spirit, comes after you, the black guy better get the fuck out of there!_

Even though Brad was big for a fifteen year old and looked like he was eighteen, he still had the mind of a scared middle aged teenager. _I sure hope he doesn't know teleportation!_

Hannah had heard the sound of gunfire in the distance.

It excited her that she could be part of The Program. It helped the American government by giving people jobs and an opportunity that they wouldn't otherwise get. Hell, one lucky person, the main star of The Program, managed to get onto talk shows and would receive a big bonus of money for making it to the end. Everyone wanted to make it to the end, but only one could make it to the top.

* * *

Hannah Kotlarz knew that it was a long shot for a fourteen year old to win the game, but she was determined to try.

When the police came to collect her at Desert Sands Secondary School, they told her not to fight when the explained that they were going to take her to compete in The Program. Hannah had wondered why they thought she was going to fight them. Why anyone would want to fight them when they were being invited to participate in The Program.

Sure the concept was scary when watching it, but Hannah knew that it was all a set up. A reality TV show that got inexperienced actors and placed them into a game that pretended to be a fight to the death. It was crude, but they managed to make it look real. Hannah always wondered what it was like behind the scenes, and now she was here, participating in it.

 _They think that the government would actually take kids away and make them kill each other. What a laugh. This is America, not some sadist country that kills it's citizens for fun._

So far, Hannah had been wandering around, wondering what to do. But she quickly told herself that they didn't give her a script to read because they wanted her to act natural, making everything look all the more real. They didn't give her any makeovers or put any props on her. They wanted everything to look all the more natural.

Hannah looked at her white and blue polo shirt and plain khakis and thought that if she had known she was going to appear on TV, she would have chosen something better. Still, she didn't consider her choices all that bad.

Her tanish skin, light blonde hair, and browns eyes, all on a small and skinny frame made her think that while she wasn't exactly movie star quality, she wasn't too bad looking. After all, she wasn't the worst looking one to ever appear on The Program.

She remembered Kendra Edwards, the third program winner, and thought that she looked a little masculine with her dark brown hair, grey eyes, and boyish face that had been nearly a third covered in acne. There was also her large hooked nose that you couldn't help but look at.

And then there was Clifford Rose, the fourth program winner, who looked frightening with his tall and muscular body, long brown hair and brown eyes, looking like he was in his twenties with his unshaven facial hair.

So looks weren't everything when it came to winning The Program. It was about 'killing' the rest of the competition in a make believe battle. For that reason Hannah had picked up the Ka-Bar knife when she had found it inside a farm house. It even came with a scabbard that she clipped to her belt.

At first, she walked through the town like set up, looking for others, but couldn't find any, even after the gunshots. She stayed away from those parts of town since she didn't want to spend the rest of The Program laying around, pretending to be dead. So she decided to go to the farm like part of the arena, where she found the military knife inside it's scabbard.

But she wanted something better. Like a gun.

If her friends were here, she knew that the nerds they were would say that a ranged weapon was better than a hand to hand fight. So Hannah looked around see if she could find any guns.

She couldn't find any, but was determined to do so. She wanted to make her parents proud. She wanted them to see that their only child was all they needed. Her parents had been thinking about getting a second child after all these years, but Hannah didn't think that she could stand having another person running around the house, taking the attention of her parents and having to share everything with them.

Sure she could argue with them, as she usually argued with people, but she knew that her parents would take their side since she was the older one. Maybe she could make them do things for her? That was a thought. That is, if they actually managed to get a second child that is.

Hannah came upon a barn and looked inside of it. She saw that it was a typical barn layout with bales of hay, a couple of areas that might have held animals, and an upper level for who knows what. And leaning against a barrel, in the center of the barn, was something that made her eyes go wide with excitement. It was a pump action shotgun. A Mossberg five hundred to be exact. And it was going to be her's.

As Hannah ran towards it, she wondered if it shot out paint balls or something else.

Hannah just managed to grab the weapon before she felt her right leg suddenly shoot out behind her. Hannah's face hit the ground before it slide back for a second, scraping the ground. She screamed in surprise as she felt herself being lifted up into the air as she dropped the shotgun. The teenage girl then found herself hanging upside down, her head nearly five feet from the ground.

Hannah's world was suddenly upside down as she flailed around trying to get free while she wondered what had happened.

Hannah saw the shotgun she had grabbed, and tried to grab it, swinging side to side slightly, but her hands couldn't reach the shotgun. It was just too out of her reach.

After Hannah tired herself out, she finally stopped trying to reach the shotgun.

Looking towards the roof of the barn, she saw that there was a rope tied around her right ankle. She sighed to herself, thinking of how she had gotten caught in a trap so easily. Still... Whoever had set the trap probably didn't expect her to have a knife.

Hannah smiled to herself as she pulled out the marine corps quality combat knife and tried to slash at the rope. Hannah tried to reach it, but her core muscles weren't strong enough for her to reach the rope.

Hannah gave out a burst of energy, and managed to get the knife to touch the rope before she fell once again. The sudden impact to her spine and stomach shook Hannah up and she involuntarily released the knife from her grip.

"Oh no!" Hannah cried out as she tried reaching for the knife. But like the shotgun, it was out of her reach.

Hannah struggled for several seconds before she wondered if she could reach the knot tied around her ankle.

* * *

If there was one thing that Kiri didn't have much of in the world, it was friends.

She could make friends easily as she was able to get along with people nicely, but just because she could make friends didn't mean that she could keep her friends. After all, many of the students at Sunny Coast High School didn't like something about her. There were those that didn't like she had two mothers. There were some that thought that those of foreign descents had something to do with the troubles America was having. Those that knew of her... Other problem. And those that didn't like her because she was a loner. Some of the worst people were those that ridiculed her because of her inability to keep friends. Said that she had some sort of plague that made people hate each other. The absolute worst comment she had directed towards her was when someone said that because she was brought to America, the Y.R.A came into effect. Because she made everyone hate each other and that's what caused the Greenfield massacre.

After hearing that comment, she had came close. So close to it. The only reason why she failed was because her mother, one of them, had found her before it could be completed.

And while Kiri loved her adoptive mothers, she sometimes found the world too much to bare. The guilt of leaving them was a heavy one. One that continued to play in her mind as she ran through the streets of where ever she was.

They didn't know of what was plaguing her mind, and she didn't tell them. Didn't want them to worry. Didn't want them to feel anymore sad than they had to be.

After wondering what she was going to do, she finally left that room she had awaken in. She had formed a plan and was planning to stick with it. She wanted to find water, food, and then a weapon. In that order. She managed to find some cans of food and a couple of bottles of water, which she kept in a backpack she had found.

She had also run into another participant of The Program. A boy by the name of Chris Mason.

Chris had searched the same place as her, an auto mechanic shop, and had, literally, ran into her. He had knocked her over because of his large frame and was about to shot her with his weapon, an MP five submachine gun, until he realized that she was of no threat. Just a scared little girl.

After the tension in the air cleared, Chris manged to give Kiri a weapon to defend herself with, a tire iron. Simple yet effective. Able to break a person's head open with enough swings and force, and you could also jab the short end into an eye and into the brain, killing them quickly. Kiri didn't like the idea of her doing that, but she would if she must.

The seventeen year old from Desert Sands Secondary was a pleasant person to be around, even if he didn't talk a lot. At first.

Despite his intimidating build, he had kind brown eyes that matched his dark brown hair and darkly tanned skin thanks to the desert state.

The two of them had formed an alliance thanks to being on good grounds with each other, mostly because Chris hadn't killed her and could use some backup for his plan and Kiri could use someone with her so that she wouldn't be lonely. He even shared some of his bug spray with her so that she wouldn't get eaten alive by the mosquitoes and others pests.

And Chris wasn't a bad guy himself. He was kind and easy to talk to. When he did talk. But if there was something Kiri was good at, it was getting people to open up. Eventually.

What made Kiri like him even more was the fact that he rescued dogs that had been abandoned. And when Kiri told him about what she supported, especially regarding anti-Y.R.A and basic human rights that were slowly disappearing thanks to the war on crime on American soil, Chris didn't mock her or anything. Rather, he agreed with her, but he didn't agree with her at the same time.

"I agree that you should do what you believe in," Chris told her as they made their way to the destination. "But there's also my own beliefs about the Y.R.A. I don't like it, but if it has a chance to help the country, I'd take that over a second great depression where the only people that live rich are gangsters and politicians." Kiri didn't argue with him, respecting his thoughts. Everyone was entitled to their own, even if she didn't fully agree.

"So what's the plan for when we reach the church?" Kiri asked, wanting to go over the plan once again.

"We go in, get Rachel, get out of there, survive."

"That's it?" Kiri asked.

"That's it." Chris confirmed.

"Shouldn't you have, like, a more thought out plan than that?"

"How about add get food, get water, get more weapons and avoid getting shot and stabbed?" Chris asked only mildly seriously, which Kiri kind of didn't like, thinking that Chris wasn't taking the situation seriously. Before Kiri could say anything, Chris started to talk again. "There's too many variables. And really, does anyone really know what's going to happen next?"

"So you're just going to play it by ear?" Kiri asked, surprised at the notion.

"Pretty much, yeah." Chris answered seriously. It was something that Kiri didn't like. There was no rhyme or reason to his future actions. Kiri preferred to know what was coming so that she wouldn't get confused. Of course, that was too much to ask for in The Program, apparently.

"So is this Rachel your friend?" Kiri asked, curious to know about the girl Chris was going to get.

"Yeah." Chris answered. "Known each other since first grade. Well, I was in the first grade. She was in second grade when we first meet. We liked to play tag together, have sleep overs, normal kid stuff. She wanted me to join the drama club with her a couple years ago, but I didn't like the thought of having to perform in front of an audience." Chris then let out a chuckle. "Funny how that is since I'm performing on live TV now, huh?"

"Funny how things work out sometimes." Kiri said with a quickly smile. "I always wanted to be on TV, doing gymnastics and stuff. But my mother, Daria, didn't want me to do all those, quote one quote, 'Crazy, scary, dangerous flips.'"

"With a name like Daria, I thought she'd like a little danger." Chris told her.

"Nah. She's, like, the opposite of her name. Anyway, she enrolled me in ballet instead. I eventually enrolled in jazz dance classes as well. And I was going to go to nationals before they choose me to come to, well... This."

"I'm sorry." Chris told her sympathetically. "I'm sure you'd do well. Though, I haven't seen your moves."

"Thanks." Kiri said to him.

They continued to head towards the church, the place that Chris was so sure that Rachel would be in.

They finally found the place after a while. It was a large building with a cross on the top of it with an open court yard. The parking lot completely abandoned.

As they approached the front steps, Chris asked Kiri. "Do you think this is the best time and place to tell someone that you'd have liked to be something more in a better situation?"

Kiri was surprised by the question, and it took her a few seconds to process it before she answered honestly.

"Probably won't get another chance."

"Right." Chris said with a nod before he reached the door handle and pulled. It didn't budge. Confused, Chris pushed and pulled. Nothing happened.

"Maybe it's locked." Kiri said, figuring that Rachel might have been scared and decided to lock herself into somewhere she felt safe in. Chris banged on the door with his fist and called into the church.

"Hey, Rachel! It's me! Chris! Open up, it's okay!"

* * *

Inside the church, however, was anything but okay in Rachel Bradshaw's eyes.

She had came into the church looking for a sense of familiarity and safety. Somewhere where she could perhaps prey for something to hope for.

Instead, she found herself in a death trap. A boy around her age wearing a surgical mask was pointing a heavy revolver at her as her best friend pounded on the heavy doors, wanting to be let in.

The hostile boy had the same medium length black hair that Rachel had along with blue eyes, but his eyes were far more menacing than her scared one. And while Rachel was dressed more casually with a brown jacket, black shirt, and light jeans, the boy had on a blue dress shirt.

"Don't make a fucking sound unless you want to see for yourself if God will welcome you in his arms." The boy with the surgical mask ordered. There were just a few pews separating the two of them, and Rachel knew that if she made any sudden movements she'd have a hole in her head.

Rachel couldn't believe that he had managed to get in without her hearing. She had been so absorbed into her prayers that she hadn't heard him step as in quietly as the doors would allow, and lock the door. He had then slide a long candle stick through the handles to prevent the door from being kicked open. She didn't hear him until her had walked partway towards her, and by then it was too late.

She never expected to be dying in the place that had helped her so much in her life. Though she wasn't a hardcore christian, Rachel still believed in God and believed in helping her fellow humans. She didn't try to convert people, or quote the bible too often, and that got people to relax when they were around her when they realized that. But it still didn't stop the jokes about how if she got selected for The Program that she'd end up going mad and start a killing spree, because those that were christian in the media and in novels always turned into a murderous maniac. Rachel hated that part, but it didn't stop her from hanging with her school mates.

She participated in after school programs that distributed hot food and blankets to the homeless, especially those that were still youths themselves. Because despite what the majority of the country saw the youths as, Rachel knew that most of those youths weren't gang bangers or criminals. Most of them were just stuck in poverty. And even most of the homeless youths that populated her hometown in Arizona were just hit harder by the economic downfall than the rest.

She prayed that those above would help those that were less fortunate, but in the meantime, she'd do what she could to lessen their suffering.

She wanted her best friend, Chris, to be with her when she was giving away food at soup kitchens since he made her feel safer by being around her, but Chris was never much of a people person. Preferred animals to humans.

Still, it's not that he hated people, he just preferred to be around the animal shelter almost as much as he liked being at his own house. Which also housed several dogs.

And as she heard his voice outside of the doors, Rachel didn't know what she wanted. She didn't want Chris to get hurt or killed, but she did want him to save her.

The banging and shouting stopped, and Rachel felt relief. _At least he won't be killed._ Rachel thought before her fear came back full force when the boy in the surgical mask spoke again. His eyes devoid of any sort of pity for her. "If you want to pray, go ahead and pray. It's probably the best thing to do right now any-"

The sound of a window shattering at the entrance caught both their attention. Rachel could see what was happening in front of her, but the boy had to turn his head to see a pickax handle had broken through one of the front windows, sending glass everywhere. "You've got to be kidding me." The masked boy sighed before Rachel saw her chance. Maybe if she got away from this guy she could run away with Chris and none of the would get hurt.

While the boy was facing away from her, Rachel dived to the floor and used a pew for cover. The masked boy saw that in the corner of his eye, and though he was facing mostly away from her, the revolver wasn't.

The Colt Anaconda roared as a bullet passed over Rachel's head and dug itself into the wall behind her.

"Rachel!" Chris yelled before he shot at the attempted girl killer with his submachine gun.

 **A/N: Hey guys, sorry for not posting for a bit. My brother needs his laptop for university and that limits my time for writing. I'm hoping to get my own laptop soon, so I'm making sacrifices at the moment. If my writing isn't up to snuff, it's because things are happening right now.**

 **Also... Still trying to keep chapters short.**


	11. Sacrifice

The sound of automatic gunfire rang through the church like a loud, off key typewriter that sent the enforcer diving for cover while Rachel, laying flat on the floor, screamed out in fright.

Bullets flew in every direction as Chris quickly lost control of the weapon. Chris emptied more than half the magazine when he finally took his finger off the trigger. Church pews had bits and pieces blown off as well as the added benefit of getting dotted with holes. The wall and podium where the priest would do mass had also gotten decorated with bullet holes.

Chris swept the remaining glass from the window frame with the the side of the gun before he swiftly climbed through. When his feet hit the floor, Keith popped up from his cover, pointed the revolver at the intruder, did a quick aim, and fired. The Colt Anaconda roared right before a hole appeared to the mere inches to the right of Chris. Chris insistently ducked, and when he found that he wasn't dead, he sprinted for the closest pew. Keith cocked the hammer and fired another shot just as Chris ducked behind the pew. The shot shaved off the top of the pew near Chris and sent a couple slivers across his face.

"Where'd you learn to shot?" Keith mocked. "Sewing school?"

Chris then popped out in a different part of the pew and shot at the enforcer, but Keith expected that, and ducked behind the pew he had hid behind. The first couple bullets hit close to him, but the rest went off track before they suddenly ceased to exist.

Chris had used up an entire magazine in two long bursts. Keith chalked in up to that his enemy had never used an automatic before. It was like those gang members that he would unwillingly, help as little as he could get away with, in Nevada. Most used what they thought were the coolest guns they could get their hands on, and not know how to properly use them. Despite how he laughed at the media displaying how urban gang bangers would hold their pistols one handed and sideways and spray and prey with machine guns, he had seen how lots of them actually did shoot that way. There was also a memorable moment where he had seen a gang member fire an LMG from the hip.

Chris himself was surprised on how quickly the sub-machine gun had ran out of ammo and how quickly he had lost control of it. While he had fired handguns and shotguns before on farms to keep wild animals away from the flocks, he had never fired an automatic.

The student unloaded his weapon, making sure that the magazine didn't hit the floor roughly as it would alert the enforcer to what he was doing. Unfortunately, the volunteer nurse knew what was happening, and was leaping over pews towards the dog lover.

Chris had managed to slam a fresh magazine into the weapon and was about to try and figure out how to cock it when Keith vaulted over the pew Chris was hiding behind and slammed his feet into the back of Chris' head. Chris gave out a yell as he collapsed to the floor, the MP five flew from his hands and slide across the floor and out of his reach.

Keith, with no hesitation, twirled around and pointed the magnum at Chris' head. The enforcer pulled the hammer before something blunt hit him in the face. It didn't hurt that much, but it caused him to shift his aim and put a bullet into the floor before he turned and saw a Japanese girl outside the destroyed window where Chris had entered.

Growling, Keith pointed the gun at the girl who had thrown a pickax handle at him and fired. The shot came so close to Kiri that it nearly tore her ear off. The girl became so frightened by how close the passing bullet sounded that she fell onto her butt. Keith cursed to himself, telling himself that he should have saw that there was another person coming to the church mouse's rescue. _After all, there are four student's from each school._

Keith turned back to Chris, but because of Kiri, Chris had enough time to recover, and grabbed Keith by his ankles and pulled. Keith fell to the floor and the back of his head hit the floor hard enough for him to get dizzy. Chris climbed onto the enforcer, grabbed the revolver with both his hands, and started to wrestle for it.

The two boys engaged in a deadly game of tug of war. Part way through their struggle, Keith fired off a shot, missing Chris, but shattered a window instead. With the weapon so close to his ear, Chris screamed as a high pitched ringing went through his skull so hard it hurt. He swore that he could feel fluids building up in his ear drum as he yanked the gun so hard that he pulled Keith towards him. Chris took advantage of that, and smashed his forehead into Keith's nose. A wet crunch occurred before the enforcer gave out a scream of his own. That was when he finally let of of the gun and gave it to Chris.

Chris leaped off the enforcer before he pointed the gun at Keith. He looked at the surgical masked boy and thought of how he wasn't normally the type of guy to want someone dead, but that guy had pointed a gun at Rachel and had attempted to kill her. And had attempted to kill him as well.

"Die." Chris said to him before he cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger, only to hear a click. Confused, Chris cocked the hammer again, and pulled the trigger, only to hear the same devastating sound again.

"Dumbass." Keith said to him with a smile Chris couldn't see before he pulled out the Walther PPK from the back of his belt, pulled the slide back, and fired off two shots. One went through Chris' gut while the second went through his chest. Keith wanted to shot him a third time, but the weapon jammed. "Fuck." Keith muttered as he stood up and started to work on the pistol.

"Chris!" Rachel shouted, seeing her best friend getting shot and dying. Chris had a look of dumbfound surprise as he grabbed the two red roses blooming on his shirt.

Rachel had never wanted to hurt anyone before. Even with the mean things people had said to her before, she had never wanted to hurt someone so bad as of right now.

With her emotions flared beyond anything she had ever experienced before, Rachel ran towards the enforcer and hit him in the back of the head with all her might. But Rachel was not a strong girl, so all it did was momently stun Keith before he spun around and slammed the butt of the pistol onto her mouth, splitting her lips and causing her to sprawl to the floor and grab her mouth in pain.

"Wait your turn." Keith told her before he finished unjamming the gun. "Now where's that Japanese-" He said as a great pain flooded his back. Keith screamed as Kiri pulled the short, and now bloody, curved part of the tire iron out of Keith's back.

The enforcer turned around and pointed the gun at Kiri's head, but Kiri smashed the tire iron on Keith's right hand, shattering it on a pew with a crunch. Keith let go of the gun with a scream filled with agony. Kiri then slammed the tire iron into Keith's chest, sending the heavy tool into his right lung. Keith could only gasp as his eyes filled with shock and he took a step back. Kiri tried to pull the tool out of his chest, but it was stuck between his ribs, and she eventually lost her grip on it and let it go.

Blood started to stain the enforcer's surgical mask as he grabbed the fallen handgun with his unmangled left hand. He was about to point it at Kiri when he heard a light snap of metal hitting metal. His head snapped towards the sound right before Chris fired the MP five one handed. The gun quickly walked up in a line of bullets that eventually hit the roof before it became devoid of such bullets, but not before hitting Keith with eight of them. Two had shattered Keith's left leg with a sickening crunch, five had entered his torso, and one had tore a hole through the side of his neck, spraying blood every where.

Keith didn't speak as blood dripped off his once blue surgical mask, overfilling as he fell to the floor with a thud.

Keith was still alive, but dying quickly and painfully.

The enforcer thought of how he was supposed to be helping people back home. How he had became a volunteer nurse because of how his best friend had died in a drive by shooting because a gang member had thought he was someone else. He thought of how he could have saved him if he had known how to treat bullet wounds properly.

How he wanted to change Nevada. The emergency services didn't get to his friend in time because of the youth epidemic. Teens everywhere were dying due to drug overdoses, gang members fighting one another, violent robberies, rape, and more. They couldn't respond to everyone on time. And yet... And yet... And yet in the hospitals, you could find gang members taking up the beds that could be used for other people that needed it more.

And then there was his big sister, a victim of rape who had became pregnant. She was supposed to get a bed at the hospital, but a gang had barged in and demanded that one of their own get a bed instead. The private security guards that had tried to stop them got mowed down by machine gun fire and threatened to do the same to the staff if they didn't comply.

The reason the private security guards lost was because they were worried about civilian casualties. The gang members won because they didn't give a fuck about civilian casualties.

His sister ended up giving birth in the waiting room, aided by those that were also waiting for help.

The gangs didn't deserve the care they were given, but they were of higher priority because if they weren't taken care of, there would be hell to pay for the doctors and paramedics that didn't get there in time or put them above everyone else.

People were scared of joining the emergency services. They needed more good people, and the country needed less gang members. That's why he worked at the hospitals, to try and save people who deserved the care.

He was tired of seeing people die, and suffer, and he had seen plenty of that working as a volunteer nurse.

He wanted the rebellious youth and all those that they inspired to fear what was coming to them. He wanted their numbers to lessen. He wanted the people of America to learn. He wanted the Youth Reconstruction Act to work where other plans had failed. He wanted to live in an America where he wouldn't have to worry about his kids, or seeing other kids, dying on the streets for little reason. He wanted them to have a normal childhood, where they wouldn't look towards gangs, drugs, and prostitution to make money because there weren't as many available jobs as there could be. He didn't want the adults to look at his generation, or the next, like they were monsters. And that's why he agreed to be a Program enforcer.

 _I just wanted to help._ Keith Morton thought before he passed away.

"Chris!" Rachel shouted through her bloody mouth as she ran towards her dying friend and fell to both knees beside him. She grabbed his hand with both of her's as she cried. "Chris. Chris. Please don't... Please don't die!" She cried out as Chris' breathing became heavier and heavier. Weaker and weaker. Blood was coming out of his mouth as he drowned in it.

"Ragh... Ragh... Ragh..." He said as he reached up to his best friend and crush. He reached up and touched her face, smearing his blood on her face as he struggled to even say her name. "Ragh..." He said one last time before he died as well. His arms suddenly went limp as all signs of life left him.

"No!" Rachel cried out before she did the only thing her distraught mind was telling her to do. She started to hit him in the chest, hoping that he'd miraculously wake up. "Wake up!" She cried out desperately. "Wake up! Wake up!"

Kiri watched the scene in horror, thinking of how she could have done more. That she should have done more. That if she hadn't been so scared that Chris might have lived to tell Rachel how he really felt, and how Rachel wouldn't have seen him die. She thought of how it should have been her instead of Chris. _This is not what I wanted._

Kiri let Rachel try to resurrect Chris for several minutes before she finally approached her.

"We've got to go." She told the older girl.

"No!" Rachel screamed at her. "He's alive, he just needs help!"

"No he doesn't," Kiri told her, hating herself for saying it. "He's beyond help, he's dead. Now come on, we have to go."

"You go. I'll stay." Rachel said.

"You stay here and you'll die." Kiri told her.

"Do you really think it'll matter if I go with you or not. I'm dead either way. Just like Chris and that little demon that killed him. I'm in The Program, and death will come for me. So why should I care?"

"Because Chris would." Kiri told her, thinking of how Chris had braved a fight against a murderous kid for her. He braved it so that there would be a chance that she would live. Even at the cost of his own life.

Rachel looked at Kiri with a mixture of emotions that Kiri couldn't decipher before she wiped her eyes on her jacket.

"Fine. I'll try. For him."

After that, they collected the guns and the pickax handle. Kiri found that Chris only had one MP give magazine left, and the tire iron refused to come out of the deceased it rested in.

Kiri had to hold all the weapons as Rachel told her that she wasn't going to kill anyone. That killing was a sin and that she firmly believed in Hell. Rachel was hoping that she wouldn't go there after death. Rachel also hoped that Chris didn't go there either.

Kiri helped Rachel out of the window, making sure that she didn't cut herself on the glass.

As they walked away from the church, Kiri could only say one thing to Rachel.

"I'm sorry."

Rachel didn't reply, but Kiri didn't need her to. _I'm going to help you._ Kiri thought. _It's my fault he's dead, so I'm going to do what he'd want me to do. I've got to make up for his death._

 **A/N: Hope you liked the short fight scene. Also, if I were making a longer story, I'd have gone more in depth with Keith. But this isn't a longer story, or so I hope.**


	12. Prey

While she wouldn't call herself a coward, Alice Scoville had became frightened when she had heard the blast of the shotgun. Sure she had seen the bullet pass through the guy she had shot, but she had also seen that he had shoved someone out of the way. Not only that, but she had heard the other girl talk. So even though she had shot the guy, the girl could have easily grabbed the shotgun and went went after her. And she did not like her odds against a scatter gun.

Still, not much fazed her and she was still in the runnings for getting out of this place alive.

Still clutching onto her revolver as she jogged through the farmland, Alice thought of how The Program wasn't that much different from her life back in Virginia.

Being a street orphan, she had seen and been through hardships and seen the worst America had to offer. And with the Y.R.A in effect, it made her life harder as it became harder to survive without a home to go to.

She had to avoid cops and duck into hiding places at a moment's notice unless she wanted to find herself in a jail cell. Which she did not. She had been to juvenile prison before on a school trip and did not want to be in that environment. Sure it was safer than being on the outside and you got a guaranteed three meals a day, even if the food was shit, but with more and more kids being charged as adults and getting death sentences, Alice preferred to take her chances on the streets. Besides, she was pretty sure the correctional officers operated with police brutality within the walls, outside of the public eye.

With short brown hair and the body of a dirty brawler, Alice was someone that looked like she knew what she was doing. And because the streets of Virginia were mean, especially towards street youths, Alice had grown into a survivor and learned to fight. You had to defend your possessions unless you wanted to get beaten bloody and have your items taken from your home. If you could call a cardboard box that once contained a refrigerator with a plastic tarp over it a home.

And though she had enrolled in Crystal Rivers High School, she saw it only as a building to keep her warm and dry for eight hours a day for most of the days of the week. And while at first she thought of graduating and trying to make life better for herself, that plan quickly dissolved as she found it difficult to go through the lessons that were being taught.

Failing classes and not catching up quickly enough, Alice fell through the cracks and ended up repeating grades. And because she looked like a filthy street rat more times than not, jobs were unwilling to hire her. So she turned to armed robbery instead.

Who she robbed she didn't care, as long as it got her enough money to survive another day. her favorite robberies were drug dealers as they usually had cash and dope on them. Alice would celebrate those days by eating her favorite Korean BBQ and getting high. She'd sell the left over drugs to others and hope that some other drug dealer or gang member didn't kill and rob her.

There were a few close calls where she had to up and move out because of such a condition. The closest she had ever came to death was when she had been sleeping in a dumpster and had pissed off a gang member earlier that day. That gang member had thrown a molotov cocktail into the dumpster beside the one she had been sleeping in, burning the girl sleeping in that one. That gang member thought it had been her and walked away laughing about how she couldn't get away with disrespecting him.

Alice did feel some guilt that the other girl had suffered because of a mistake, but she also knew that out in the streets of Virginia, it was either her or someone else. And she preferred it to be someone else. She was a survivor, and learned to deal with situations like that.

So all things considered, she figured that she was the best candidate for winning The Program.

 _Would have liked that shotgun though._ She thought. _Could have torn through the competition with that weapon._

Alice spotted a barn and cautiously jogged towards it. She had been surprised by another person inside the previous house, and it had costed her precious seconds. That was not going to happen again. If she meet another person, she was going to be ready. She wasn't going to be like those wimpy kids that pissed their pants at the sight of a dangerous situation, she'd be the one doing the killing.

Alice got closer to the barn, and thought that the outside looked fairly typical from the pictures she had seen in books. Though unlike most places, it was out in the open with no animals or other equipment. She wondered if they had been taken away prior to her arrival.

Looking inside with caution, the street rat saw that there were bales of hay inside. There were several piles of hay scattered about in various locations, a stable looking set up, an upper level, and to her surprise, a young girl suspended in the air due to her ankle being tied up by a rope. To her feet was a combat knife and a shotgun. Alice's eyes lit up as she scanned the area and found nothing suspicious.

Smiling, the orphan walked into the barn as the blonde haired girl, obviously tired due to struggling, spun around slightly in time to see Alice.

"Hey," the younger girl said to her. Her voice full of hope. "Can you please help me get down from here?"

"I don't know about that," Alice said as she showed the upside down girl her revolver. "I mean, I wouldn't want you to try and escape and have me chase you around."

Hannah's eyes suddenly went wide when she saw the gun.

"Don't kill me," she pleaded. "Please."

"Now why the hell would I do that?" Alice asked as she pointed the Webley revolver at the blonde. "Only one of us can leave, and with you out of the runnings, that puts me one step closer to winning."

Alice aimed carefully, wanting to put a bullet through the girl's brain in one shot. Hannah struggled feebly, trying to get out of the trap, but she just couldn't reach. "Hold still bitch." Alice demanded before Hannah screamed.

Alice thought that it was because the dumb girl finally saw that there was a gun pointed at her face. But what Hannah could see that Alice couldn't, was that someone had risen up from one of the haystacks to Alice's right. A pile so thin that neither of the girls thought of as significant. Yet somehow, it hid a person that had been laying in wait.

The mysterious figure came up to Alice with a calm, but quick moving stroll, holding what appeared to be some sort of tool handle. The figure then moved her hand like she was flipping open a butterfly knife, but instead of a small blade, she was operating a folding shovel, the kind special forces soldiers used.

The orphan heard the snap, and turned towards the figure before she got hit in the face with the flat end of the shovel so hard that it flattened her nose with a gush of blood. Alice screamed as she collapsed onto the ground like a heavy sack of potatoes.

Dazed and in agony, but not out of commission, Alice pointed her revolver at the figure that seemed to appear like a ghost, but a black combat boot cruelly stepped on her hand, causing it to fire and miss the target by a mile.

Alice saw the figure in her blurred vision raise her entrenchment tool, so Alice raised her left arm in defense, not that it did her much good as the shovel struck her forearm so hard that broke with a wet crack. Alice screamed in pure agony as she felt the shovel tip press into her forehead. The shovel hadn't gone through her arm the entire way, but it damn near almost severed the arm with the tip penetrating the other side.

The figure raised up their right leg, and slammed it onto the shovel, severing Alice's arm completely an instant before it went through her skull horizontally. Alice's screams were silenced as the shovel had dug into her forehead, all the way down to the left side of her chin, with a wet crack. Blood and brain fluid pooled around around her split open head like a messily split open pomegranate while her arm sprayed out blood like a broken garden hose. Trails of blood ran down her face like an invisible spirit was painting on tribal ink.

Hannah screamed, having witnessed a murder taking place. Everything she thought about The Program had been shattered. When the brown haired girl had pointed the gun at her, she didn't think she was going to die, just be out of the game. But now she saw that when you got out of the game, you were out of your life either. She finally understood why the people on the TV were so scared.

Hannah looked at the murderer, and saw that they wore civilian hunting camouflage clothes with matching gloves, hunting vest, cap, and neck warmer covering her mouth and nose. The only things Hannah could see was the blonde hair, and from the length and shine of it, she knew that it was a girl. The tan skin. And there were the eyes, a menacing forest green. To add to the terrifying image, she was a good six foot two with broad shoulders.

Hannah had seen people like her on the airings of previous programs. Enforcers.

The enforcer left the shovel buried in Alice's head and picked up her revolver before checking to see what was inside before closing it. She then picked through the dead girl's pockets, taking the box of ammo before placing it in a jacket pocket. She then ignored Hannah and her struggles to pick up the Ka-Bar knife and scabbard, clipping it to her waist.

That was when Tia Buckland of the enforcers looked at Hannah, the person who had foolishly fallen into her trap. Tia had set up traps like this back in her home state of South Carolina and was quite good at it, being a hunter living in a rural part of her state.

"Please-" Hannah cried out before the barrel of the revolver was shoved into her mouth. The enforcer looking at her with deadly intent, and Hannah could see that she would think nothing of pulling the trigger. Still, Hannah begged for her life, whimpering into the gun barrel as she shook her head.

Hannah then saw the enforcer pulling the barrel out of her mouth before she placed the gun in her hunting vest. Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. But then the enforcer pulled out the marine corps knife and thrust it into Hannah's stomach just below her belly button. Hannah screamed as the enforcer yanked down on the knife, cutting skin until it reached the center of her chest and hit the beginning of her ribs. Hot blood poured out as well as a pile of red and purple entrails. The steaming guts slide out of their fleshy prison and slithered down Hannah's body and face, leaving a blood trail like grotesque snakes.

As Hannah's eyes rolled back with her mouth agape in pain and shock, Tia spun the girl around and wiped the knife on the back of Hannah's polo shirt until it was clean.

Tia found the process almost like skinning a deer, but easier. And while she could have killed the young girl the second she had came in, or the second she had gotten caught in her trap, she thought that she could get a two for one deal. And she had. Patience really paid off, and patience was something she had in spades.

Tia took her shotgun, loaded it, then placed it onto her back. She then fought to remove the shovel from the older girl's skull before cleaning off the blood and brain matter on the deceased's shirt.

The enforcer then exited the barn, leaving the bodies as they were, and looked out at the field, thinking of the thing as another hunting trip.

* * *

The sound of static squelching blared through the air as the speakers located throughout the closed off battle grounds came to life once again.

"Hello students and fellow patriots, it's been hours since you've awoken and things are going relatively smoothly, all things considered. Now, I'm here to tell you of the deaths that have occurred since you've awoken." The man could be heard clearing his throat before he continued. "In twentieth place is Leonard Duma. In nineteenth place is Hewil Dye. Eighteenth place goes to Hunter Boswell. Seventeenth place goes to Chris Mason. In sixtieth place goes to Alice Scoville. And finally, in fifteenth place goes to Hannah Kotlarz. Now, I'd normally go and announce the deaths every five student deaths, but Mrs. Scoville and Mrs. Kotlarz were killed so close together. Also biting the dust is enforcer boy number three, which is a damn shame. The rest of you students out there, go out and give us some kills and fight with gusto. The sooner you kill each other the sooner one of you can return to your friends and families."

And with that transmission ended, the speakers gave out another static squelch before they went silent.


	13. Potential

Though many hours had passed since the morning she had woken up in her dorm, to when she was called to the head master's office, to when she had once again woken up in an unknown location, to now, it hadn't even felt like that much time had passed.

She wouldn't have said that everything had passed by in a blur, but it was like everything was moving at an increased speed. Almost like reality was a VHS videotape and the user had permanently placed it on fast forward.

And in that time, seven teenagers had died, if what that announcer had said was true. She didn't see the need for him to lie, so she took his word for it.

Out of those seven teenagers, six of them were students that were forced into The Program, while one of them was a government volunteer thug. She didn't feel as much sympathy for the enforcer as she did for the students, as six were forced to participate while the other wasn't. And on the announcement, there was a name that she was familiar with. Leonard Duma, a member of her private school.

Though she didn't know him all that well, she figured that she knew enough about him to know that even though they went to the same school and were at the mercy of The Program together, she wouldn't trust him. He talked about The Program like it was a good thing, and from what she saw in his notebooks, there were sentences describing what he'd do if he ever went into The Program. He also wrote about what he would do to those that he didn't like if they got selected for The Program. If anything, he wished to be selected for The Program. Wanted to be an enforcer even. So all in all, he was a wannabe murderer looking for an excuse to justify his urges. He was no different than the enforcers currently murdering the other students as far as she was concerned. So she didn't feel very sorry for him and felt that he got what was coming to him.

But there were two other people from her school that were in The Program with her, and she was glad that she hadn't heard their names. They were by no means close, but at Horizons, it seemed that everyone at least knew everyone's names, and that was more than some of the previous schools offered her.

Originating from London, she moved frequently due to her father's job as an ambassador. Moving from country to country, Aris Carselle learned to adapt to her new homes before she had to leave once again. She learned to make friends quickly, but not get attached to them as she knew that she'd soon move once again.

When she moved to America four years ago at the age of thirteen, she thought that it was going to be just like every other place she had visited to, and Horizons would just be another school she'd make a pit stop in. But she was surprised that her father hadn't been replaced as quickly as she thought he'd be. When she asked how long they'd be staying, he had told her that she should get comfortable as he expected that they wouldn't be moving from America as quickly as they thought they were going to.

So Aris did settle down. She made friends at Horizons and felt more at home than she had in a long time. But the restrictions of the rights and freedoms of the country's youth made her uncomfortable. It reminded her of being in a third world country. She hated it.

Looking at the improvised weapon in her hands, a keyboard that she had taken from a computer that lacked a tower, Aris felt like she was in a third world war zone, not the America that she had read about when she was young. _America's supposed to be the land of the brave and free._ She thought as she looked outside a fortified window, towards the desolate town that she knew was anything but. _But with the Y.R.A, you don't feel very free._ She then thought of those that were being crushed under the heel of semi-oppression, from both the government and those that forced their hands. How many students at Horizons tended to stay within school grounds rather than chance getting in the middle of a battle between government forces or the various factions that waged war against them or each other. Because even though Nebraska was one of the more peaceful states, that didn't mean that it was all totally safe. _Or brave._

Looking around her shelter, Aris noted her defenses. Boarded up windows and a barricaded doors. It wouldn't be easy for someone to get in, but she had a way in and out of the house that wasn't too obvious. The basement had a hidden trap door that she could open and close to her discretion, and it was secured with a thick padlock and chains of which she had to key for. And it also came with the added comfort of blending in with the faded yellow grass in the yard.

Deciding that she had secured the house as best she could with the items handed to her, Aris decided to go out an explore the town for the first time in many hours, because despite her wanting to stay inside the house and stay safe, she knew that she couldn't. She needed food, water, other survival supplies and better weapons to defend herself with, because sooner or later, someone was going to try and break into the house, and along the line, someone was going to succeed. And when that happened, she needed to fight back. Not only that, but she needed to know more about the surrounding areas, and if she was lucky, she could find out more about the people that were participating. And if she was very lucky, she could find her schoolmates. Because while Leonard wasn't someone that she'd have liked to be alone with, Lara and Oliver seemed like alright people that wouldn't stab her in the back.

* * *

 _This isn't fair._

That's was what was repeating in his mind as he ran away from his pursuer. _I'm not someone that deserves to be in The Program! I'm a law abiding citizen with a future for greatness! I don't deserve this!_

When he had first saw the person chasing him, he had deemed them a threat because of how scary they looked. And when they looked at him, they readied their weapon in such a way that it looked like they were going to charge at him.

Not wanting to die, he blasted out two loads of buckshot at once, missing his target before he ran.

Now running through the open yards and jumping over fences as best he could, Evgeni Rakitic wasn't going to let the person that was chasing him catch up to him, so he did everything he could think of that could slow them down so that he could lose them. He thought that he would be able to jump the fences better than they could since he was used to exercising daily and was used to jumping and was agile because of his sport of choice. Unfortunately for him, while his body was light, he was also short, which made getting over the fences a little more difficult than he anticipated.

He scrambled over another fence to see if he had made any progress in losing his pursuer, but he was horrified to see that they were closer to him than they were the last time he looked. In fact, they appeared to be only one fence behind him and was currently jumping over it like they had practiced it.

Letting out a gasp, the fourteen year old fell over the fence and landed onto the dry grass, some of it getting into his shaggy, dirty blonde hair, with a mildly painful thud before he swiftly got to his feet and ran towards the house close to him. He knew that he had to get somewhere that could give him some protection, or at least enough time to load up the sawed off shotgun he was carrying.

Running across the yard, he came to a sliding glass door, that looked like someone had attacked it with a blunt weapon as it had spiderweb like cracks running across it.

Evgeni ripped open the door, thanking those above that it was unlocked, before he closed it shut and locked it. At that precise moment, he saw the person that had been chasing him for what felt like an hour, vault over the fence, almost like an acrobat.

Evgeni looked at the terrifying figure as he, with shaking hands, broke open the shotgun.

The figure looked like a masked villain straight out of a horror movie with all their black clothing. A black tactical vest over a black jacket and black dress shirt. Black pants and black combat boots were also part of their clothing of choice along with a set of black leather gloves. But what really completed the terror was a black ballistic mask that covered their facial features. The only thing of them that was visible was their white skin and their slightly longer than shoulder length black hair. How they weren't sweating in their clothes was beyond Evgeni, as he himself was wearing a snowflake patterned sweatshirt and grey sweatpants and was sweating due to both running and fear.

The figure stopped only to look at the house and see Evgeni inside it before they ran towards the door. Evgeni meanwhile, saw that they had seen him and backed away from the door as they ran to the door holding their weapon, which appeared to be a long axe handle, in their right gloved hand.

The fourteen year old had pulled some red shells out of his grey sweatpants and was trying to placed them into the shotgun cartridge chambers, but his shaking hands betrayed him and made it difficult to load without dropping the shells.

Evgeni almost managed to load in a single shell when he heard the sound of glass shattering. Screaming and dropping the shell, he looked up and saw that the enforcer had managed to create a long, open, horizontal scar among the glass. The enforcer lifted their axe handle again and swung down a second time, creating an even bigger hole in the door.

Evgeni pulled out another shell from his pocket and attempted to load the gun. The enforcer in the meantime pulled their weapon from the door and kicked the remaining glass with a fearsomely powerful blow, sending the majority of the glass to fly off the frame and onto the floor.

Before the enforcer managed to take one step into the house, the fourteen year old managed to place a single shotgun shell into the gun before snapping it shut. The boy was about to point it towards the enforcer when the masked figure suddenly grabbed Evgeni's left hand, the hand that was on the forend of the gun, with their left hand. With seemingly bone crushing force, the black figure forced the weapon towards the ceiling just as a load of buckshot discharged from the barrel with a loud boom. Bits of dust and debree fell from the ceiling as a result as ringing occured in Evgeni's ears.

With his one single defense neutralized and scared beyond anything he had ever felt before, Evgeni was about to try and free his now aching hand and run away, but was meet with a gloved fist to the face before he could so much as attempt to yank his hand away.

The young boy stumbled backwards as pain radiated through his face while the enforcer ripped the shotgun from his hands.

Dazed and with his vision blurred, the enforcer threw their wooden handled weapon up in the air, letting it spin around in a full circle before they caught it again, winded it back, and smashed it onto Evgeni like his head was an oversized softball. The pain was so great that he didn't even scream as teeth and blood escaped from his mouth. Some of the blood and teeth landed on a fallen television set to the young teen's right.

Tears formed in his eyes as he felt agony he had never felt before. Even when he had fallen doing figure skating jumps and landed face first on the hard ice did he never feel agony like what he was feeling now.

Letting out sounds that sounded like he was having trouble breathing as thick blood poured from his mouth, Evgeni didn't have the strength to fight back as the enforcer pushed him onto his back with their foot. The enforcer then pressed the axe handle onto Evgeni's throat and placed pressure onto it, making it difficult for him to breathe.

Evgeni wrapped his hands around the ax handle to try and relive some of the pressure, but they were much stronger than him.

"Wait..." Evgeni said the best he could with a strained voice and a mouth that was filled with blood and missing teeth. "Wait... I can... Help... America..."

Though Evgeni couldn't see it, the enforcer looked at him with interest and released some of the pressure on his neck. Evgeni took huge gulps of air as he could suddenly breathe almost properly now.

The enforcer waited for him to continue, and he did so within seconds, hoping not to piss off the enforcer that was nigh close to killing him. "My name is... Evgeni Rakitic... I'm a figure skater... I'm only fourteen but... I can compete at a competitive... Level... They say that I can win the gold at... Nationals... Maybe even... Participate in the Olympics one day... I could be an asset to... Making America look good again..."

The enforcer looked at him for a second before they reached into their left breast pocket with their free hand and pulled out a cell phone and began looking through it's contents.

Evgeni, thinking they were distracted, tried to crawl away and put some distance between them, but without taking their eyes off their phone, the enforcer lifted up their right leg and stomped on his balls, causing Evgeni to unleash a loud shriek right before the enforcer harshly pushed the axe handle back onto his throat, cutting off his scream and air supply.

The enforcer, Sandra McAdam, found the wanted document on her phone, and scanned through the names and pictures of those that the government thought could make good winners. Evgeni Rakitic was on the list.

Sandra read some of the information on Evgeni Rakitic and saw that he wasn't spewing out bullshit. Sandra placed her phone on sleep mode once again before she pulled the axe handle away from Evgeni's throat and picked him up before she reached into his pockets and pulled out a box of shotgun shells. She then collected up the red shells that he had spilled and picked up the sawed off shotgun as well. She calmly loaded up two shells before she started to leave. "Hey," Evgeni said to her with a struggling voice as he continued to clutch his injured testicles. "Can you help me? Like, ally with me so that I can live up to my potential?"

Behind her mask, Sandra rolled her eyes and pointed the shotgun straight at Evgeni's face, to which Evgeni seemed to get the message. She was going to let him go in hopes that he'd win, but she was no god damn babysitter.

Sandra saw the fear in his eyes, and from the putrid smell and the growing dark stain on his sweatpants, she knew that he wasn't going to pursue the issue anymore.

Turning away from the boy and running from the house, wondering if she had made the right choice. The boy was young and there was no guarantee that he was actually going to live up to what he thought was his potential. And even if she did kill him, there were other candidates that could make good winners. And even so, he wasn't even on the top of the list.

But what if she had killed him, and none of the other's lived either? Then what?

Genevieve Copeland, the fifth program winner from Rhode Island wasn't supposed to win, and the government had been afraid of what she could have done after she had woken up from her hospital visit. And while she hadn't done anything to help bring down the country, she had done nothing to improve it either.

The first three program winners, Nelson Bowers, Jerry James, and Kendra Edwards, had at least done something to try and help the country and some felt that they were even going to help bring an end to the Y.R.A.

As a private security member, Sandra wanted the youth crisis to end. She had seen enough shit to last a lifetime, and Minnesota was not the best of places in the country either.

The decisions she made, she hoped that they were the right ones when the moment came down to it as it could mean the end of her life or the end of the life of an innocent bystander. She had helped save many people from violent youth and even some adults. Her job was dangerous, but she felt she was necessary while they were in the crisis they were in. So all in all, she was glad to be doing what she was doing, even if she would be seen as a monster to those in society for taking part of The Program, for if it meant a better future, so be it.

Evgeni, meanwhile, was just glad that she had decided not to kill him. But at the same time, he was mad at her, because she had seen that he had the potential to be something great, but instead assaulted him, stole his weapon, and ran off, leaving him defenseless.

 **A/N: Hey guys, remember when I said that this fic was only going to be about 60K words long? That's still my goal, but I think I might have screwed myself over with a low word count, as you can see how I'm trying to keep the story short but failing in a way.**

 **In other news, I might be getting a new laptop, work has slowed down for the summer, and I'm not feeling all that bad, so I hope to update a little quicker in the near future.**


	14. Wrecked

He was burning up inside, and no matter what he seemed to do, nothing would seem to cool him down. It caused him to sweat profusely and become easily fatigued. He knew that it was because of the gunshot wound he had received since it hadn't been properly cleaned nor had it been properly bandaged, but he couldn't seem to find anything that was better than the plastic wrap around his thigh.

Toph felt as if the flesh and muscles within his thigh were being scraped off by blistering hot razors it hurt so much. From what little of the wound he could see, the flesh around the bloody hole was turning a tainted red and black with veins that looked like they were collapsing, or at the very least, were being corrupted.

 _How long has it been since I've gotten shot?_ Toph wondered as he looked at the sky, taking a small break from his exhausting journey from one house to another. _Six hours? Seven? Judging from the sun it's well past noon. Probably early evening or something._

Using a broom handle that he had found as a sort of makeshift cane, Toph continued to lean on his good leg as much as possible, as even the slightest bit of pressure sent waves of agony coursing through his injured leg. And while many people would think that he was lucky to have been shot in the left leg because he was right handed, Toph knew that those people weren't very knowledgeable about the human body. Sure his right leg was stronger, but the left leg was the one that was used more for balance than power. Because of that, Toph found himself nearly falling over more than several times.

Leaning against a wall of a house to rest and catch her breath, Toph thought of how it had came to this. How he, someone that was really smart, had become a casualty during the first moments of the game. He had made a plan and things were going so well, until he meet someone that looked like they had came out of a Salvation Army sale and shot him.

He just didn't get it. He was a straight A student. His teachers and parents had told him that he was going to do great things in the future. He had watched The Program last year when Genevieve Copeland of Rhode Island won _. She had been nothing special and she had won. She had had no plan, ran around blindly, and all she had wanted to do was save her friend, until she killed her at the very end of course._ It was beyond Toph that she had been the winner.

Wiping the ungodly amount of sweat from his forehead, Toph found that he could only travel a short distance before he'd start to get winded. While he wasn't the most athletic person, he didn't consider himself lacking too much stamina. _It's because of that damn bullet wound._ He thought bitterly. _It's probably infected, so I need to find something to slow it down until I can win The Program._

Even now he thought he was still going to win, all he needed to do was find something to help him with the infection in his leg, find a gun, and find some place safe with some kind of choke point that could trap his enemies.

Toph gave out a weak smile as he thought of those that bullied him in school. _They always resorted to beating me up because they know that in the end, I won, because I'm smarter than them. Always could come back with better comebacks and better logic than they ever could._

Of all the people at his school, there was only one other student that he seemed to get along with. A guy named Albert Keefer, or Al for short. He and Al would get into debates, and of course, Toph would always win. They would play video games together and hang out at school when things were good, but when things got bad for either one of them, they'd avoid each other like they were the plague. Neither of them wanted unnecessary heat on them, so they tended to stay away from one another when they were a target of bullying that day.

And even though Al's grades were lacking, Toph considered him actually worth his time.

 _Al told me that I'm acting too much like a stereotypical nerd, but what does he know? If people are going to pick on me for being what I am, I may as well go all out and not hide what I am._

Groaning, and with breath taking effort, Toph started to walk once again, using the broom handle like a cane, looking for someplace that could help him in his current predicament.

When he rounded a corner, he saw something that could be of great benefit to him. A liquor store. Smiling weakly, Toph started to walk towards it. He noticed the scorch marks that were painted on the dirt road, and saw the charred up body that made him feel sick to this stomach, but he didn't actually think that anyone was going to be in that place. It was too much of a target, many people would be flocking towards that store for alcohol to drink or to use as disinfectant. Not only that, but it may contain other items of use that people would want.

Feeling confident that things were looking up for him, Toph hobbled slowly towards the store, and past the body of some kid that he didn't recognize. Of course, the burns covering the person made them barely recognizable anyways. Their flesh was a mess of dark red and black and they seemed to have been remodeled, like their flesh was made out of low quality paper mache or something as sheets of flesh were peeling off.

Feeling that the body had already been looted, knowing that if he had killed the seemingly hours long old corpse, he'd have looted it already as well.

Toph looked inside the store, and saw that some bottles were smashed and that a fight had likely occurred inside, but otherwise, there was nothing to be concerned of.

Toph pushed open the door and walked inside.

But then he felt liquid splash all over him right before a large pail hit him in the back of the neck. Toph feel to the floor and screamed as the bullet wound flared up with agony. Toph was about to curse whoever had placed water up there as a joke, not liking it when he was at school and not liking it now, when he suddenly felt as if his flesh was being eaten alive by millions of fire ants.

Where the liquid had splashed on him started to burn and itch. It soaked through his clothes quickly, and the parts of his body that hadn't been covered started to burn even more quickly as the naturally occurring oils on his skin began to betray him. To make matters worse, his eyes began to feel as if they were melting from within their sockets.

Toph screamed in absolute misery as a putrid, yet familiar smell hit his nose. It was the stench of bleach.

As Toph hollered in pure agony, someone hiding behind the counter gave out a sadistic giggle as she watched the helpless boy claw at his face in a pathetic attempt to clear the bleach from his eyes.

Of all the things Elvira adored the most, it was seeing people in pain. And two years ago, she had discovered just how much of a thrill it was for her to be the one inflecting the pain. Sure she had gotten some satisfaction when she imagined hurting people in various ways, especially those that she didn't like, but nothing competed with feeling their life drain from their bodies and hearing them scream in agony and scream for mercy.

A group of boys that had been picking on her, harassing her at her school, taking advantage of her, she had had enough of them and decided to quell the problem once and for all. And it had been easier than she had thought. _Just convince them that you'd perform sexual favors for them in exchange for leaving you alone and they come running to you with their tongues out of their mouths._ What they didn't know was that she'd knock them out with her homemade taser before she'd drag them down to her basement, and mercilessly torture them until their last breath.

When she was done, she had disposed of their bodies. And though parts of them had been found several days later in various dumpsters across the city, nothing tied her to their murders. And it's not like anyone suspected her of anything either. After all, who would suspect the shy, quiet, mousy girl that actually gave a damn about her grades in Crystal Rivers?

It thrilled her like no other, and she wanted to do it again.

When she was in her room sometimes, she'd even cut herself to get a fraction of the thrill.

So when the police stormed into Crystal Rivers High School, she didn't even resist. She let them zip tie her hands, she let them carry her to the police van, she let them drug her, and let them take her to The Program. All the while, she had a smile on her face the entire time.

Elvira smiled, thinking about those boys, thinking about the boy that she had burned, and the boy that had had extra strength industrial strength bleach poured onto him. She'd have liked to have gotten that black kid as well, but she hadn't thrown the molotov cocktail hard enough. She sighed at the lost opportunity, but was going to have a fun time with the boy in front of her.

Pulling on a pair of rubber gloves to protect her from the corrosive liquid, Elvira thought of all the things she'd like to do with the boy.

 _There's so many things. Shards of glass to slice the skin open, allowing the bleach to seep into the wounds. Drag him across the boy through broken glass. Kick his teeth out. Slice his eyelids off. Oh... What's this? A wound wrapped in plastic? Maybe I could do something with that as well._

* * *

 _I should have known. I should have fucking known._

If there was one thing that Izzy Chisom was, it was terrified. Not just because she was in The Program, a live television event where you had to kill other kids, but because she was being chased by the worst type of person to encounter in The Program.

Looking behind her, she could see her adversary still hot on her tail. Gasping in fright, Izzy turned her head again and faced forward.

At sixteen years old and growing up in Minnesota, Izzy thought that she would have been braver when it came to facing enemies in The Program. After all, she had heard gunfire out in the streets and had seen fights both inside and outside of Sunny Coast high school. _But then again, you never tried to involve yourself in them._ She told herself as she continued to run.

 _What was it that mom and dad always said to you? If you can avoid a fight, do so, otherwise you might end up killed?_ She had taken that advice to heart, and ran with it her entire life. And while there were some that might see it as a cowardly way of life, she was still alive, which was more than some of the so called badasses that picked up arms and battled a seemingly unwinnable gang war that had no end in sight. And it was more than she could say for the innocents as well.

With short blond hair and a small structure, Izzy could easily slip out of dangerous situations unnoticed, or more easily than if she had long hair and she was bigger, but this seemed to be one situation that she couldn't escape from.

Looking around, she knew that it was foolish to have tried and run away from the pursuer as there was nothing but open land for a long distance. The houses were spaced far apart in the farm part of the area, and from the dead bodies she had seen, it was not a safe area as well.

There was that one fat kid who had been hanging from an electrical cord at that one house. His face a pale white as flies crawled over his dead body and went in and out of his nose and mouth. And those two corpses in that barn, both females like her. One had their head split open horizontally like a half chopped log while the other had been disemboweled. Their bodies had been a feast for the crows until she had scared them away, but she was sure that they were back since she had fled from the barn.

She should have seen the warning signs, just like she had seen them back in Minnesota. She had always been careful, but this time, she wasn't careful enough.

Izzy felt her legs burning, but she continued to run, knowing that if she stopped she was dead.

She managed to run around thirty more feet before she felt a sharp pain in her back. It caused a scream to escape from her mouth as she fell face first onto the ground.

Izzy then felt a foot land roughly onto her back before whatever had chopped onto her back came out of it just as painfully. She felt hot blood start to seep onto her back as the wound throbbed painfully.

The girl was then roughly flipped over, allowing her to get a good look at her attacker.

Her attacker wasn't that tall at only five foot six, but what he wore was more than enough to intimidate her. He wore military fatigues that included a tactical vest, camouflage gloves, and a boonie hat. Green, brown, and black face paint also masked his true facial features like highly decorated war paint.

The enforcer lifted his blood stained hatchet before he plunged it into Izzy's chest, causing her to scream and grab her chest. The enforcer pulled the bloody hatchet from her chest and attacked her now undefended neck with all his might. It cut a third of the way through her neck, before he removed it and chopped at it two more times before it severed from the rest of her body.

As blood rushed from her neck cavity, Brody Viconsin from California thought of how the army was supposed to protect the country from threats. When most people thought of the army, they thought of them going out to foreign countries to prevent terrorists from harming those in America. But since the youth rebellion, Brody found himself seeing that the home front was the biggest danger to the country he loved and served.

On the news, places like Virginia and New York, at times, had to rely on the national guard and the active reserves to help quell the street riots and gang wars. Though California wasn't the worst place to be in America, Brody felt that his peace loving parents and their peaceful groups signing petitions and writing letters to the government wasn't doing enough to help stop the violent youths. So, with his parents signed consent, he joined the army at the age of seventeen to try and help make a difference in America.

There were a lot of his classmates that said a lot of shit but did shit all to achieve it. Brody wanted to be the opposite. He wanted to be someone who's actions spoke for themselves. So in joining the army, he felt as if he was actually doing something to help crush the youth rebellion and allow America to recover.

* * *

Apathetic. Unmoving. Those were the words that Kiri would use to sum up how Rachel was feeling. Because while Rachel followed Kiri around, she just didn't seem that interested in anything, like she just didn't give a damn.

Sitting in the house that Kiri had chosen to occupy for the evening, and hopefully the night, Kiri would have liked nothing more than for Rachel to say something, or even look like she still had some trace of emotion besides uninterested.

"It looks like it's going to be a nice sunset soon." Kiri said, hoping to stimulate some conversation from Rachel. All Rachel did was hum so weakly that Kiri would have missed it if not for the seemingly inhuman silence between them. And nothing, absolutely nothing, seemed to make Rachel talk since they had left the church. Not only that, but Rachel was refusing the food and water that Kiri had offered her. Kiri had told the older girl that she needed to get something inside of her, but Rachel just looked at her like a lost child that didn't even know what hungry was. Or what food even was. And the look in her eyes, the blank and lost look in her eyes. The eyes that look forward towards nothing and looked through everything. Besides knowing that she was the cause of them, that was the thing that hurt Kiri the most.

She recognized the look in Rachel's eyes. It was the look of depression.

 _Well what do you expect?_ Kiri thought to herself. _Her best friend was killed in front of her. Hell, she even held his hand as he died. She felt the life bleed from his body and there was not a damn thing she could do about it._ Kiri wondered if Rachel had mutual, romantic feelings towards Chris as Chris had to her. But she'd never find the answer now.

Kiri looked for a clock, but couldn't find the time. It frustrated her as she wanted to keep within her routine. Dinner at six, homework at seven thirty, to bed sometime between nine and ten. It had become normal for her, and it just didn't feel right when she didn't follow it.

Of course, the entire day had been nothing but inroutine, and mentally, it was driving her crazy. There were times where she wanted to rip her hair out. If not for the life threatening situation, she would have made a really big deal out of it. Though she had screamed just after she had woken up.

But she also thought of what it would mean to fall asleep in a place like this. Surrounded by enemies that wanted to kill you for the chance to go home. And while there were fourteen left, the last she heard, that just meant thirteen more threats were ready and able to take you out in your sleep.

 _Maybe that wouldn't be so bad._ Kiri thought darkly. _It's hopefully quick, hopefully painless, and better yet, they won't think it's their fault._ But then she looked at Rachel and thought of that mental promise that she had given herself. That she would keep Rachel alive for the sake of Chris. _No... She thought. Not yet._

Kiri sighed, thinking of how much she hated The Program. _How many other friends and young lovers have been lost because of this? Everyone in The Program has lost school mates. Hell, Genevieve Copeland, last year's winner, lost her best friend. And Rachel lost her best friend and potential boyfriend. And the people out on the streets? How many more must die before people will wisen up to the situation?_

Kiri looked at Rachel once again. She was in the same sitting position she had been since she had sat down. "You think you can pray for him?" Kiri suggested gently. "You know. To make him know that you're thinking about him and for him to have an easier time in heaven." It was right after she finished that Kiri smacked her head several times, telling herself how stupid she was for saying something like that. _Of course she's thinking about him, it hasn't been that long. You're just reminding her that he's really dead you stupid idiot!_

"You could have saved him." Rachel said quietly, without turning her head or her eyes. "Why didn't you?"

"I tried." Kiri answered equally as quietly, thinking of how she threw that pickax handle at that enforcer to distract him, only for it to be for naught anyway.

"And I could have saved him as well." Rachel said, her voice cracking, tears coming from her eyes. "Why didn't I?"

"You tried." Kiri told her, looking at the split lips that Rachel sported thanks to her efforts of trying to save Chris. The one that had been bleeding profusely before Kiri had tried to bandage it up with rags. It bleed less, but blood was still leaking through.

She had also risked a bullet to the face so that Chris wouldn't worry about hitting her with the submachine gun. "You did more than I did." Kiri guiltily told her.

"I miss him," Rachel told her as she cried. "I miss him so much."

"I know," Kiri told her gently as she held Rachel's head comfortably in her arms, allowing her to cry into her chest. "I know."

 _I wonder if this is how my mothers feel when I'm crying._ Kiri thought. _Guilty, like it's their fault I'm like this. Except this is actually my fault. I'm the one that caused this, and I could have stopped it. If I hadn't been so fucking scared._

She then thought about what she was planning, and the pain in her heart only increased. And the more she thought about it, the more it hurt.

 **A/N: I told myself I'd make a GOOD, SHORT chapter. It ended up longer than I thought, and less good than I thought. Ah well, what can you do? There's not much detail in this chapter, but I hope it was enough.**


	15. Worthwhile

Crushing the last of his beer and throwing it to the ground, Hawk Blackbourne felt a calm and welcome feeling wash through his body as the alcohol and nicotine flowed through his stomach and veins.

Taking another drag of his cigarette, Hawk thought of the names that had been announced hours prior. None of them really meant anything to him, but what had interested him was the one they had called enforcer number three. Of all the people that he thought were going to go first, it wasn't an enforcer. After all, weren't they supposed to be strong enough to be able to handle a bunch of school kids like him?

Hawk had been disappointed with the encounter he had gotten at the liquor store as the fight had been entirely one sided. It wasn't that Hawk didn't enjoy a good fight now and again, and he was by no means afraid of fighting, it was just that that pathetic boy had put up no resistance. It wasn't any fun. _I mean, what's the use of fighting if it doesn't give you that rush? It just feels... Wrong._ And while Hawk did believe in fighting for survival, that boy hadn't really done anything to him, so even though he was fighting to go back to whatever pathetic excuse he had for home, it just didn't feel right beating someone that didn't fight back.

Hawk shook his head, wondering why he hadn't just killed the boy then and there. He had been an easy target and would have sent him one step closer to coming out of The Program alive. _In Virginia, gang members would have killed him and taken everything of value no problem._ But Hawk was no gang member, and really, he had no desire of being one. Nobody wanted him, and in return, he didn't want anyone either.

Sucking on the cancer stick some more, he thought of how he never wanted to fit in anyway.

When he still identified as Beth and his parents had made him wear dresses and act like a girly girl, he wanted nothing more than to not be that person. Not just because it just didn't feel right, but because of what being a girl meant in that area of Virginia. Of all the threats that you had to endure as a female and all the trails of fire that you had to go through for protection.

If you didn't have protection, you were in danger of being beaten, robbed, kidnapped, sold, used, abused, and raped. Of course, it was the same with the males, but at least it happened less often and people took you more seriously and didn't just see you for how big your curves were.

And to get protection as a female, you either had to prove that no one should mess with you, or have someone else protect you, wether that was family or gang members. Either that or just be lucky enough that people avoided you or took no notice of you.

Hawk was not lucky, nor did people avoid him. After all, it was kind of hard to be invisible when everyone bullied you for being a transgender freak. So everyday was a constant fight for survival.

Hawk wandered around the town some more, looking for some excitement and to do something other than just wander through the entire program. He had heard gunshots and did not really fancy his chances against someone with a firearm when all he could find was a meat tenderizer. He wondered how there were people out there that could find guns when all he found was something that could ruin someone's face.

He wasn't complaining though, because while he had no experience with firearms, even though he lived in one of the rougher neighborhoods surrounding Crystal Rivers High School, he was a brawler through and through. The meat tenderizer could turn someone's bones into playdough or break their skull open with the more blunt side, while the more spiked part could tear their flesh apart like a bear's claw tearing apart the bark of a tree.

Walking back to the house that he had claimed as his own for the duration of The Program, Hawk went to the door and tried to get inside, but couldn't get inside due to it being locked. Hawk briefly wondered if he had accidentally locked it when he had left, before he dismissed that thought because it only locked on the inside.

It was then that Hawk realized that someone was inside his house, and he didn't like it. Sure he could have left and slept someplace else, but he wasn't about to be pushed out of some place that he had claimed as his own. Back in his hometown, you had to fight for what you owned otherwise people would continue to take from you. And while he was used to sleeping in back ally ways, a house with a bed was much more comfortable.

Tossing the ciggerete aside and taking the meat tenderizer, Hawk smashed the little window in the door with the kitchen tool before he reached inside and unlocked the door. He then opened it and rushed inside, looking for the intruder. And thought it was foolish, he started to shout inside the house.

"Who's in my house? Who's the fucking assholice dipshit that thinks he can just waltz into my house without my fucking permission?"

It was then that Hawk heard footsteps start to run about in the upper floor. Hawk speed towards the stairs and managed to get to them in time to see someone descending the stairs, only to stop mid-way when they made eye contact with Hawk.

From what Hawk could see, it was some scared black guy who looked a year older than himself. He looked like more of a challenge than that guy at the liquor store, and Hawk hoped that he wouldn't disappoint him.

Hawk ran towards the guy as he turned tail and ran. "Hey boy!" Hawk screamed at him as he began to chase him. "What are you doing in my house!"

Hawk had gotten a good head start on running since he didn't have to turn around like the darker skinned boy had to, and quickly caught up with him.

Grabbing the boy by the back of his shirt, Hawk pulled him back towards himself and struck him in the shoulder with the spiked part of the kitchen tool. The boy gave out a scream of agony before Hawk spun him around and struck him across the face with the spiked part of the tenderizer, causing bits of flesh to tear from the boy's left cheek with a thick mist of blood.

Hawk pulled back his arm for a third swing when Brad saw that running away wasn't going to work. Instead of trying to escape, Brad moved out of the way of the spiked hammer, causing Hawk to miss his swing. Brad, doing his best to ignore the immense pain coursing through his left cheek, grabbed Hawk by the face, spun him about in a brief struggle, and smashed the back of his head into a wall, smashing a framed painting. Hawk felt bits of glass embed themselves into the back of his head and gave a shout of pain as well. "That hurt you son of a bitch!" Hawk shouted at him before he pushed himself off the wall and sent them both stumbling backwards until they both made their way to the edge of the stairs before they both started to tumble painfully down it.

Hawk and Brad hit each other as the steps jabbed them in their sides and backs.

By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, both of them were groaning and Hawk, only because Brad had accidentally bashed his head onto Hawk's mouth, was tasting the familiar taste of blood in his mouth and feeling a warm gush on his lips.

Hawk, enraged by how hurt he was, recovered much faster than Brad. While Brad was still groaning over falling down the stairs and slowly getting up, Hawk picked himself up before he grabbed the back of Brad's shirt and forced him to his knees.

With Brad on his knees, Hawk smashed one of his knees into Brad's mouth, causing Brad's head to snap back as an arc of blood flew from his mouth. And with his hand still clutching onto the back of Brad's shirt, Hawk threw Brad into a wall and started to bash the back of his head with the meat tenderizer with unrelenting frenzy.

Brad screamed as the meat tenderizer's spiked end broke into his skull, but were quickly silenced after the third strike broke apart his skull and sent brown brain matter flying. By the sixth hit, Hawk could have fit most of his hand into Brad's head and scooped out his brains. Hawk didn't stop until the eighth blow. By then, little more than a third of the back of Brad's head had been taken off.

Hawk breathed heavily as he looked at the destruction he had created, and he felt great. Boys will be boys, people said. When boys would prove who was the toughest, and manliest of the bunch by fighting one another. They would settle things with fighting, and the social hierarchy was changed and shaped with fighting. The toughest ruled, while the weakest bowed and served.

Hawk had wanted to prove his manhood to those that thought he couldn't make it as a man because he had been born a woman. But when he had first stood up to those that bullied him through physical force, he had found euphoria in seeing them bloody, bruised, and looking at him like he was some sort of freak for having the courage of fighting three of them at once and holding his own.

He had lost, but in that moment, he had found that he had proven himself. And though he was still ridiculed by those in his high school, a fist to the face could silence them for a bit. And if not, he was always looking to prove his masculinity by fighting other men.

The black boy might not have been his toughest fight, but it showed that he could handle The Program.

And with that knowledge, Hawk gave out a joyful laugh.

What Hawk didn't know, however, was that his earlier shouts of anger, and his current laughs of joy, had attracted the attention of two individuals of The Program. Both of which were killers in their own right and were more than capable of spilling blood. And following the sound of laughter, they were hellbent on doing so.

 **A/N: Hey guys, this chapter is short, which I'm proud of. Hope it's alright.**


	16. Escape

Even on the best of days, living in the Blackbourne household wasn't particularly enjoyable in Hawk's opinion. Besides the obvious dangers of living in a dangerous area of Virginia, Hawk's parents weren't all there themselves. His mother would try and keep the house as clean and tidy as possible, but that still didn't mean that she was any good at running a household with a kid.

The two of them never had the best of relationships, always fighting and shouting at each other over petty things. But things became even more rocky when Hawk declared that his name was no longer Beth, that he was no longer going to identify himself as a female, hacked his hair short, and threw out all his dresses. She thought that he was being rebellious and would demand that he stop with the so called current trend. She thought that him being trans meant that he was suffering from delusions and that if he just stopped being a rebel, much like many of the youth in Virginia, that he'd be cured, his grades would increase, and that he'd become clean again.

Hawk's father wasn't that much better as he was out working late many nights, so Hawk didn't see him much. But on the days that he was at home, Hawk tended to avoid him more than anything else as he'd hit the bottle to try and drink his stress away. And when he shouted, he'd shout loud. Frighteningly loud. And there were times where he got so upset with his wife that he'd slap her across the face while screaming profanity. Hawk would usually sleep in back alley ways if his father was in that foul mood as he never wanted to be a target of his dad's physical abuse. Besides, every time he fought back, his father was always able to beat his ass to the curb.

And while Hawk didn't very much care about school he at least had had friends. But what friends he did have turned their backs on him when he came out as a trans-gender. They didn't want to be seen with the freak. To say that the teachers didn't very much care was an understatement. Sure they could say that they were afraid for their lives as the school was a jungle, even with the private security roaming around to keep order, but Hawk knew that they just didn't care. After all, less than half the school managed to graduate and the teachers kept more of an eye out for those they deemed worthy. At least in Hawk's opinion.

It wasn't hard to see how Hawk developed dysphoria and depression. Smoking cigarettes in his room when he could obtain them and fighting people became common place.

Hawk blamed society and the new government turning everyone's views more conservative, if not ultra conservative in his eyes. He'd got out and spray paint walls and stores with vulgar artwork and found that it had a calming effect on him. The police had cuffed him before and told him that if he didn't smarten up and stick to school, nothing good was going to happen for him. But as far as Hawk figured, he wasn't that smart and school was a waste of time. What was he going to do with a high school degree when businesses were shutting down because of the rebellious youths damaging them with armed robberies, shoplifting, and vandalism? Not only that, but it was tough to get a legit job in the first place.

So short of becoming some kind of criminal, more than likely an armed robber, Hawk didn't really see that much of a future. So he lived in the moment and nothing further.

Sucking on a fresh cigarette, Hawk relished the feeling that was coursing through his body. Not only was he proving his masculinity, but he was getting a better feeling than that as well. Hawk secretly didn't know if he had what it took to win The Program, but if all his opponents were going to be like the now deceased boy and the faggot that couldn't fight him, then he had the entire thing in the bag. _After all, how hard can the rest of them be?_

Blowing smoke from his mouth, thought of what he could do after he won The Program. Maybe he could move away from the shitty state of Virginia and move somewhere else. And the money was good as well. Maybe he could move to Canada or something where the Y.R.A didn't exist and they were more accepting of trans. After all, it didn't seem to be working and there was nothing else that he could think of to save the country. _Why continue living in this sorry excuse for a country when you have the means to move?_

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Hawk was actually looking forward to something.

Nightfall had just came, and along with it, so had the mosquitoes.

Crushing another insect that was drawing life from his neck with the palm of his hand, Marcos Sánchez look at the house that was a fair distance away from him.

Following the sounds of demented laughter and the stream of foul language, Marcos had came to the cluster of homes where the sound had originated. The noise had vanished, but it wasn't a difficult task to locate where a student was. In fact, it had been simple as he noticed the bright orange glow inside one of the houses.

Marcos briefly wondered if the person inside was stupid enough to think that they could smoke a cigarette so out in the open like that, but he figured that they thought they were safe enough to smoke if they were inside a building. _After all, they were stupid enough to remain in the place where they had started to laugh._

The hispanic student looked at his Glock twenty two and thought of the bullets that were remaining. With a fresh fifteen bullet magazine inside the weapon he had nineteen bullets remaining. He thought of those bullets he had wasted when shooting those two girls and how he shouldn't have used so much trying to kill them. The food and drinks of the convenience store were good, but what use was a gun if you didn't have bullets?

Not only that, but the first boy had no bullets, no guns, only a kitchen knife. The girls also had no ammo on them, so even if he killed all three he'd still have used bullets unnecessarily. _And then what would I do in a gun battle? Point my empty gun at them and hope that they surrender and not blow my face off with their bullets?_

Marcos hadn't heard any sounds of gunfire come from the house, but the house was too close to his base of operations for comfort. And attracting attention like that was just asking for trouble.

Moving to the house with as much stealth as possible, Marcos approached the window that he had seen the glowing orange dot. When he got to it, Marcos saw that whoever was creating the glow was still smoking, oblivious to his presents.

He was about to raise his weapon and take aim when the figure in the home started to move. Marcos ducked and hoped that he hadn't been spotted. He didn't hear them say anything, but that didn't mean that they didn't see him. But by the loud thumps of heavy boots hitting the floor and finally going up a set of stairs, Marcos safely guessed that they hadn't seen him.

Letting out a silent sigh of relief, Marcos stood back up and slowly, carefully, opened up the window and climbed into the house without too much noise. Sure there was some noise, but the sound of the occupants heavy steps drowned out whatever little noise he had made.

Not taking any chances, he slowly and as silently as he could be, he made his way through the house. Right before he got to the stairs, he saw the body of someone with the back of their head missing.

Passing the body, making sure not to slip on any blood and brain matter, Marcos made his way up the stairs. By that time, the heavy foot steps of the enemy had ceased to exist, followed by the light slam of a door, and Marcos became extra cautious as to not make any sounds and to be ready for action if they exited the room they were in.

He got to the top of the stairs, and guessed which room they had entered from the smell of a still burning cigarette and from where he had heard the door slam.

He made his way to the door and grabbed the door knob with his left hand. With his right he got his Glock ready.

He then slowly and silently turned the door knob enough that he could open the door. Then with sudden motion and strength, he swung the door open like he was shoulder bashing someone. The door flew open and hit the back of the wall, while at the same time as it was opening, Marcos grabbed the grip of his pistol with both hands, quickly scanned the room, and pointed at the human shaped figure that was laying on the sole bed in the room.

"What in the fuck?" The half asian yelled as they shot up from their laid back position. They didn't get very far as at about the same time they were half way up, Marcos fired two shots at their center mass.

Both bullets entered Hawk's chest and exited through his back in a spray of blood that stained the wall behind him.

Hawk gave out a sharp gasp of bewilderment and agony as he grabbed his chest and his eyes went wide with shock.

With no hesitation, Marcos placed this Glock in the back of his pants before he grabbed the kitchen knife he had liberated from another student and walked up to Hawk before he mercilessly slit his throat, sending arterial blood to spray out of his neck like a broken garden hose.

As Hawk made horrible chocking gurgles, Marcos searched Hawk's body and found the meat tenderizer. Marcos tossed it to the side as he found the kitchen knife to be better.

Hawk quickly passed out from shock and would be dead soon. Marcos, meanwhile, had no trouble with that.

Growing up in Latin America, Marcos and his family had came to the United States to escape the cartel and gang violence along with the poverty and police corruption. And even more so, to escape M.S Thirteen, a gang that Marcos had been a part of in order to survive the violent world of Latin America.

He wanted out of that life, so when his family found a way to escape the country, he jumped at the chance for a better life.

The first thing that he had done when he had arrived in the United States was removing those damn tattoos on his arms and back.

So to him, living in an America with the violent youths and the Y.R.A was not too much of a shock to him. Gang violence was nothing new to him after all. Though if anything, he didn't want to be a part of it in his new life.

Walking out of the room and making his way down the stairs, Marcos was going to make his way out of the house when he spotted someone else enter the house. They were wearing all black and sported a black ballistic mask, making them look like a shadow in the just born night.

The instant they noticed each other they raised their weapons. Marcos noticed that it was a compact two handed weapon that could be held in one and had twin barrels. Diving to the right, the blast of the sawed off shotgun roared, sounding extraordinary loud in the house.

Buckshot obliterated a small chunk of the wall as Marcos clumsily rolled to his feet and moved to the stairs, to get the high ground and to get at a better angle. Marcos then turned back and pointed his gun in the general direction of his enemy and fired, missing the enemy by a mile.

Sandra, ready to fire again, swiftly stepped into view and with one hand, fired the second shell, turning part of the stair railing into splinters.

Silently cursing to herself, Sandra took cover and calmly broke open the sawed off and replaced the shells.

Besides knowing the basic knowledge of knowing that a double barrel only held two shots, Marcos heard the telltale sounds of a shotgun being broken open and empty plastic cylinders hitting the floor.

Marcos ascended the stairs to get at the better angle he wanted. It didn't take that long for Sandra to snap the sawed off closed and peeked out to see where her enemy had gone to.

It was then that Marcos got her in his sights and fired a shot. The round just missed Sandra's arm and flew past her chest. Sandra saw that she was in a bad place and quickly fired off a shot to get her opponent to hide behind cover for a moment so that she could move.

And like she planned, Marcos ran for cover as she exited her previous position.

Sandra saw Marcos make a dash for one of the rooms and quickly shouldered the sawed off weapon and fired. The door Marcos had chosen suddenly got a gaping hole in it causing Marcos to backpedal suddenly before coming to a brief halt.

Sandra, knowing that there wasn't going to be enough time to load her weapon, holstered it, pulled out her ax handle, and charged towards Marcos.

Hearing her footsteps coming up the stairs, Marcos turned and fired a blind shot that went wide. Sandra, not frightened by the shot enough to stop, continued to make her way up the stairs.

Marcos, knowing that the Glock was semi-automatic, fired again, but even though the bullet passed through Sandra's stomach, she was still speeding towards so fast that she couldn't have stopped even if she wanted to.

Only slightly slowed by the sudden burst of agony lancing through her stomach, Sandra managed to smash the hard staff of wood onto Marco's hand so hard that the Glock flew out of his hand and landed on the first story floor below.

Sandra, due to the pain in her gut, kept on running and accidentally charged pasted Marcos' body, only clipping him in the process, and crashed into the door, making the gaping hole even bigger as the weak wood came apart.

Macros cradled his injured hand as he stumbled back, as while it wasn't broken, it hurt like hell. Sandra also groaned as more waves of agony washed through her body as spikes of wood threatened to launch themselves through her tactical vest and puncture her flesh. It also didn't help that it was poking into the bullet entrance wound.

The two warriors let their pain get to them for a few moments before they began to recover.

Marcos grabbed his kitchen knife and was about to stab the enforcer, but Sandra saw that coming and kicked Marcos in the face with her boot causing his nose to let out a crack and bend slightly. Marcos let out a scream as blood poured from his nostrils, making up until his back hit the wall.

Sandra was then about to attack him again, but to her horror, she discovered that the sleeve of her jacket was stuck on the spikes of wood of the open door hole she had created. And she couldn't take off the damn thing because to do that, she'd have to take off her tactical vest first.

Sandra tugged with all her might trying to free herself before it was too late. She tugged once, nothing. A second tug got the fabric to tear. The third tore her jacket sleeve off from the door.

The enforcer then turned towards her enemy just in time to get stabbed in the throat. Sandra let out a wet chocking sound as the large blade cut off her air supply and send immense torment through her body.

Sandra grabbed Marcos's arms, but Marcos shoved her back, impaling her through the back as the wooden spikes of the hole in the center of the door punctured her lungs.

Marcos ripped the knife from her throat, allowing her to die faster as blood drained from her neck like a diabolical over flowing well.

As she was dying, Marcos grabbed her mask and tried to take it off her face, but she resisted until she was too weak to hold onto life, not wanting the world to see who she was. In the end though, Marcos took the mask off her face, and saw that it was a pretty average looking white girl with black hair slightly longer than shoulder length. He had originally thought that the person under the mask was going to be an ugly fuck, but he was wrong.

Inspecting the mask, Marcos saw that it was still in prime shape and slipped it over his face.

He then took Sandra's tactical vest from her chest, finding eighteen spare shotgun shells inside. He then took the sawed off shotgun, loving that he had a new weapon that could deliver cones of destructive lead towards the next mofo that he crossed paths with.

Getting everything he wanted from the now dead enforcer, leaving the ax handle behind, Marcos got his pistol with only fourteen shots left.

Groaning in pain due to his busted nose, aching hand, and where Sandra had collided with him, Marcos withdrew back to his base of operations, wanting to fix himself up and hoping that nobody had raided his store.

 **A/N: Hey guys, I think I'm finally out of my down mood, so I'm happy for that.**

 **So, here's a couple of questions:**

 **1) Who would you like to win?**

 **2) Who do you think will win?**


	17. Knights

The sound of static blared through the night as the speakers scattered around the closed off battle grounds came to life once again.

"Hello students and fellow patriots, I'm sorry for interrupting your night, as some of you seem to be settling in, considering the circumstances. But deaths have occurred and I'm here to read out the deceased." The sound of papers being shuffled slightly could be heard over the speakers. "In fourteenth place is Izzy Chisom. In thirteenth place is Olander Christopher. Twelfth place goes to Brad Faulkner, and finally, eleventh place goes to Beth Blackbourne, A.K.A, Hawk Blackbourne. And I'm sad to report that enforcer girl number three has also passed away." The radio operator could be heard giving out a sigh. "Better watch out kids, there be real monsters roaming the night."

And with that, the speakers gave out a static blare before they became silent once again.

* * *

 _Nobody from Horizons has died since the last announcement. I'm glad for that._

As Aris crossed over the borders of the town and came to the farm like area, she thought of those gunshots that she had heard earlier. Two of them had followed close together, like someone was snap shooting. _That was the proper term for that type of shooting, right?_ Aris tried to remember the terms of shooting that she had learned from the military school she had resided in when she had gone to Canada. _What as there? Single, rapid, snap, burst, automatic?_ She wasn't sure, but she was pretty sure it was snap shooting before a pause came. And then it sounded like two types of firearms were being used. One that gave out loud, roaring blasts, while another gave out dry pops one at a time. Either way, a gunfight had gone down, and with the amount of gunfire she had heard in the town, especially that one fight where automatic fire had occurred, she rationalized that there might be some people that had fled the town part and went to the farm land part of the map.

Lara and Oliver had managed to avoid the bullets, but whether that meant they had hidden like her or had just been lucky enough to avoid them she wasn't sure. But she felt safer going out at night when people were blinded by the darkness. She felt even safer knowing that she had a great advantage over others, for in her right hand, she held a camcorder with night vision technology.

Aris was able to see the world in shades of green, black, and white, on a flip off side screen. It was more than most people could say when the sights in front of you were dark and the sky was only several shades lighter. And what's more was that it didn't incriminate her position the same way flashlights would.

 _The wonders of technology._ Aris thought as the scanned the area for threats as she walked through the farm land, thankful that she had applied insect repellent to her body. _It can do so many things._

Indeed, technology was what allowed her to make her first friends at Horizons. Having come from Japan for a while, she was still adapt with computers and the like when she had first been fascinated with them. And with the cultural difference in America, Aris had done further research on the Y.R.A. She hated what she had found out.

The American government took away the rights and freedoms of it's citizens due to the passing act, something that she hated. Aris was never one to do what she was told, usually going what she wanted, when she wanted, to a point, but having to be told to be suppressed by an entire nation was beyond her.

Because of the Y.R.A, she was not allowed to be outside at certain times, allowed to own certain things, wasn't allowed to tour certain places, or be allowed access to certain websites. All the while, she was constantly monitored while browsing the web. She once got a message from the government telling her that she wasn't allowed to further research certain protests against the Y.R.A and the government unless she got a permit from her school or a government official. It also told her that if she continued to do so without permission, her computer would be put on lock down for an indefinite amount of time.

That really got her fired up as learning about those kinds of things was important. And the types of protests that she had been researching were those of great controversy. Those that had the greatest effect on the public opinion, violent and not. Protests that not only affected the public opinion and the government itself, but also the effect it had on the larger corporations verses the effects the youth rebellion and the Y.R.A had on smaller businesses.

Not only that, but wasn't it a right to be browsing the web to learn about thing on somebody's own free will? This was supposed to be the western world, not someplace like China or North Korea.

Aris eventually learned more from her tech buddies and found that they did their own kind of protesting. They hacked certain websites and did publicity stunts that gained public attention or disrupted government activities. Usually on government websites, large cooperation websites, or popular sites that were visited by the masses.

The government labeled her and the online community of hackers she was a part of, terrorists, but she considered herself part of a group of freedom fighters.

As far as Aris was concerned, she did a lot less damage to the country than protests out in the streets that got people and small businesses hurt.

Was she scared of getting caught? She was, as she had been explained time and time again when she was going to enter a new country, that while her father was an ambassador, it didn't protect her from the law of that country.

Her father's position allowed her certain privileges that many others didn't have, but what she didn't have protection against was being selected for the Y.R.A program.

She wondered what her parents would think when they discovered her fate. She figured that they'd be devastated, but because they hadn't been around her much because of their jobs, they'd get over it quicker than the other student's parents.

Aris didn't know how long she had been wandering for, but she eventually found a building in front of her. Aris wondered if Lara and Oliver were sleeping in there as she cautiously approached. As she got closer she saw that it was a barn. _A barn would be a good place to hide._ She thought as she continued to get closer to it, hearing nothing close to it but buzzing insects.

Aris saw that there was nobody around the building, so she decided to take a look inside, to discover a horrific sight of two female corpses.

One which was laying face up with their head horizontally split open. Ants and flies crawling over the body and going in and out of her head and mouth.

Another body was hanging upside down by a rope with their entrails slipped to the ground. A nest of flies crawling about in their chest and stomach cavity. A look of permanent bewilderment was on that girl's face.

Aris looked at each body for two seconds as the putrid smell of death hit her like a freight train and sent her sprinting away from the barn entrance and caused her to vomit repeatedly into the grass.

 _What kind of sick, horrible monsters would do that?_ Aris thought as she vomited a fourth time as she caught another whiff of rotting bodies.

Aris then thought of the videos she had seen of previous programs and thought of those government supporters that went into the game to kill students like her, Leonard, Lara, Oliver, and the rest of the students in this battle zone on the government behalf. Enforcers they were called. Wore masks to conceal their identity. For good reason too, as Aris felt like trying to track those that had willingly participated in previous programs.

Vomiting once last time, Aris thought of all those cyber attacks she had done and thought of how she could send another kind of message to the government by killing enforcers. After all, the American government and those that supported them and the Y.R.A were bad guys for allowing things such as the gang wars get out of control. In return, they took away people's rights and made things worse by allowing The Program to take place. In a way, they were just another gang.

Wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her school uniform, Aris scanned the area again with her camcorder, telling herself to not going into that barn again as she couldn't stand the sight and smell of corpses.

* * *

Having seen the charred corpse on the outside and hearing the faint screams of someone being tortured on the inside of the liquor store, Ethan Gazaway saw that it was no secret that someone was using the liquor store as a base of operations.

Having lost his DVD player to the two girls he had encountered earlier in the day, the enforcer had to find other materials to help him.

In one of the houses he had searched he found a sledgehammer, which he took despite it's weight and size as it could easily destroy someone's skull or bones in one swing. Not only that, but he was strong enough to effectively use the weapon as well.

Searching several more houses for supplies and students, Ethan had heard a gun battle occur and had no intention of going where it was being held as he had no firearm himself and didn't think that he could take on anyone with a firearm. Not only that, but he was now on his own in the town part of the map as his fellow enforcers, Keith and Sandra, had been slain.

Ethan may not have known them very well, but he felt as if they were partners in a way. He guessed that this feeling was probably how his father felt when he lost a fellow cop to a gang member or some fucker that didn't want to be arrested, only amplified.

He didn't know who took Keith or Sandra out, but by the time this year's program was over, he was going to know. And while he'd be mad at them, he'd take no action against them as they would either be dead or walking among the winners. Ethan just hoped that who ever won would try and help the country and not be useless like Genevieve Copeland or Clifford Rose. The former doing nothing but rotting in her home state while the later shot himself in head before he could even do anything useful.

He had heard that Clifford had been a candidate as he was a drummer in a heavy metal band and was someone that was deemed not a threat to the government. They thought that he'd be able to use his music influence to appeal to a youth sub-culture and get them to calm their rebellious nature. Until he offed himself that is.

Genevieve on the other hand... Well. She was someone that hadn't even been on the radar. She had been a nobody, just some random girl that got randomly picked from the random program selection. So nobody knew what to expect of her.

It was just like with that girl in the liquor store. Elvira Noire, Ethan thought her name was, was someone that the government thought could be a potential candidate as she was someone that actually got good grades in school, unlike the others at Crystal Rivers. They thought that she was going somewhere, and that she could help pave the path of finally abolishing the Y.R.A.

But from what Ethan had seen of her, taking that one crippled boy and looking like she was going to have a field day with him. And the screams that came after. Ethan started to think that she wasn't going to be a good choice for a victor.

Looking in a closet, Ethan found several canisters of various chemicals. Through the balaclava he wore, Ethan smiled. _Oh yeah. I can use these._

 **A/N: Short chapter, but I think you'll like the next chapter and it'll make up for it. If Aris' part is a bit confusing, I'm sorry.**

 **Thanks to my improved mood, I'm getting back into reading. Also, my brother and I recently purchased Mass Effect Andromeda, and those who've played RPGs will know it'll eat up my time. Also, household chores for the (stupid) summer.**

 **Maybe when I'm done this fic, I'll divide my attention between Shades Of Normality, possibly another fic of a different fandom, and (extremely slowly) start writing an original novel. Which one I have no idea as I've got a few ideas. Whether they're good or not is up for debate.**

 **Expected dates of completion:**

 **Reconstruction Destruction: 2017**

 **Shades Of Normality: 2018-2022**

 **Other fic: Unknown (I may not even start it back up)**

 **Novel: 2045 or later XD**


	18. Stalkers

Although she'd normally be asleep by now, Lara Springs was no where near tired. The fact that fear was coursing through her body like wildfire and the threat of death loomed over her like a cloud that wouldn't move away to warm her body with the summer sun made her stay awake. It made her watch the door and listen for any sounds that could and would make their way into the house before they navigated from room to room. And while she did her best to keep her mind from wandering to the worst case scenario, she did have the sense of mind to actually keep her eyes and ears open.

The thing was though, was that even though they hadn't seen or heard from anyone for the last several hours, that they were becoming increasingly exposed. Not in the way that the house was falling down and everyone could see them exposed, but exposed because time was passing and bodies were piling up.

People were looking for them, and with half the students remaining, Lara could guess that people were looking forward to going home more than ever. And while they were inside the cover of a house and had darkness protecting them, Oliver's heavy breathing made it tough to hide for long. If someone came into the house, it was fight or flight time with no third option.

Lara had done what she could for her friend, which had been little more than press her sweater against his injured shoulder and wrap it as tightly as she could. The way that Oliver screamed though, and the way his left shoulder looked, and the way he burst into tears, Lara could see that bones had been shattered. Oliver wouldn't be able to use that arm anytime soon. Not unless he got to a hospital.

But for him to do that, he'd have to win. And for him to win, Lara would have to die. She knew that. And while she didn't want Oliver to die, she wanted to live as well.

That thought made her mad, as she thought of when she first came to Horizons she was starting a whole new life. She had left behind friends that she had known since elementary school, now only able to talk to them through a screen, because her family wanted to move her to some place safer. Sure she still lived in the same state, but on the other side of it.

And then her parents put her in Horizons, and because it was a private school, she was only able to visit them when she left the school grounds. And she could only do that when she was allowed. And really, when she felt safe enough to do so.

When she first arrived, she had been a scared thirteen year old that knew nothing about Horizons and knew nobody inside it. Too scared to go up to anyone and ask where anything was she wandered around the school grounds like a lost and kicked dog.

That is, until Oliver Lockard found her sitting on a bench, alone, at sundown and asked if there was anything that he could do for her.

He pointed her to the girl's dorm and she went on her way. The next morning she had no idea where to go, and she somehow ran into him again and he became her guide to the new school. Became her first friend at Horizons. Her best friend, despite their three age gap. And though there were rumors that the two of them were trying to pick each other up, their relationship was nothing more than platonic. And really, they viewed each other as more of a brother and sister they never had. So much so that if anyone even joked about them hooking up with each other that they'd recoil in disgust and audibly explain how disgusted they were as they flailed their arms about like little girls getting close to bugs or something.

Lara was happiest at Horizons when she was with Oliver. It was for those reasons that she just didn't walk away with two pistols, a single shot shotgun, a baseball bat, and a kitchen knife while leaving Oliver to his fate. She thought about mercy killing him, but she couldn't do that either. Whether or not Oliver would do the same was irreverent in her mind, and she knew how stupid it sounded when she said it out loud when in a game of survival like the Y.R.A program.

Because of that, Lara knew that there were people on the other side of the screen, TV and internet, telling her to just leave him since he had become nothing but a liability. She couldn't hear them, but she knew that they were saying that to her.

Still... She knew that she couldn't do it.

Lara looked at Oliver, and though he had his eyes closed and was breathing heavily, looking like he was asleep, she knew that he was anything but. He was in too much pain to sleep.

Sighing, Lara decided to get up and stretch her legs as she had been sitting for the better part of, what felt like at least, three hours.

Holding the shotgun with both her hands and having two handguns tucked behind the waistband of her skirt, Lara walked around the room, making as little noise as she could as she felt the blood start to circulate its way through her legs again and her feet became less numb.

Lara's eyes had adjusted to the dark, or at least, it had adjusted enough so that there was no need to turn on the lights. Not that she wanted to turn the house into a lighthouse and attract things other than bugs.

The girl approached the second story sliding glass door that lead out to the upper porch and looked outside to see if she could spot anything.

Outside was nearly pitch black. The moonlight was mild, so while it was possible to navigate the area, whoever was walking around wouldn't be able to see very well. Not without a flashlight or something. And as far as Lara could see, nobody was walking around with such a device.

Sighing in relief, Lara went back to her seat and continued to act like a sentry.

It didn't take long before Lara heard the sound of glass behind shattered behind her.

Screaming, Lara jumped out of her chair, spun around, faced the sliding glass door, and fired a load of shotgun pellets at it. The sound was deafening, causing Lara's ears to ring and for her to cup her ears as she gave a groan.

"Lara!" She heard Oliver yell out in concern. "Lara! You alright?"

"Yeah," Lara told him. "Yeah I'm good."

Lara placed the shotgun down and pulled out one of the Glock seventeens from her back and pointed it towards the now broken window. Lara looked at the broken glass that littered the floor and the porch and looked for a body.

She saw a black shape among the glass and shot at it. The sound caused her ears to ring some more and she almost wished she hadn't. The black figure didn't move, and Lara cautiously went closer to it to investigate.

As she got close to it, Lara saw that while it was of rectangular shape, it wasn't a human. It was far too short and didn't have the right shape of a person. Lara got closer to it, and saw that it was a shovel.

 _What the hell?_ Lara thought as she looked at the shovel. _Why would someone throw this towards a second story window?_

"Lara!" Oliver shouted.

"What?" Lara asked turning towards her friend. Just as Oliver fell out of his bed, Lara's head came apart with a deafening roar. Pieces of skull and buckshot propelled themselves into a wall as blood and brain decorated said wall. All the while, Oliver could do nothing but scream in his own torment as waves of agony washed through his body thanks to landing on his injured shoulder.

Lara's body hit the floor with a wet and meaty thud as the huntress racked a fresh shell into her shotgun.

Tia Buckland, who was used to hunting animals with superior hearing and sight than humans, had seen Lara through the glass door when she made her rounds. From the looks of the little girl she had stalked for a while, Tia had guessed that she had never stayed in one spot for too long, being on full alert for such a long period of time.

Fear and adrenaline would only take you so far before it began to fail you. She knew that. Which is why she had laid in the grass when the sky became dark and it became hard for anyone to see too much.

The girl was tired and afraid, so Tia used those elements to her advantage.

Throwing the shovel at the window, she scared the girl. And like she anticipated, she fired a shot, causing her hearing to plummet. Tia then made her way into the house, moving quickly but quietly as to be sure she wouldn't be heard.

By the time the boy in the bed had seen her, it was too late anyway.

Tia looked at the howling boy. He was like an injured animal that needed to be put down.

Tia slung the shotgun over her shoulders and picked the boy up with her strong arms like he was a freshly shot buck.

The boy tried to wiggle his way out like an overgrown trout, but Tia held fast.

She carried the boy to the balcony and to the edge of the railing, lifting him up over her head with a mighty grunt before tossing him over the edge.

The boy screamed for less then a second before his head hit the ground and was silenced.

Though Tia couldn't see it, she could picture his head hitting the ground before it cracked, shooting blood out as his neck snapped under the weight of the rest of his body before his legs finally touched the earth again.

Tia hadn't spotted anyone else within the house, nor did she hear the sounds of footsteps running away or coming towards her. She didn't hear any heavy breathing or anything. It all told her that nobody was inside or had just ran away.

Not letting her guard down though, Tia took the handguns from Lara and whatever pistol ammo she could find on Lara's person. The sporting shotgun was useless to her as were the twenty gauges as her Mossberg was a twelve gauge. Tia also had her own knife, and perfered the military knife as well, so she left the kitchen knife and retrieved her entrenchment tool.

* * *

She was far enough away that the person with the hat and neck warmer around their mouth didn't see her. But what she wasn't far enough away from was to hear the gunshots that occurred within the house in front of her.

Aris knew that she shouldn't have been there. Had known ever since she heard the sound of glass shattering. So she moved away. But it wasn't too long before she heard a familiar voice yell out a familiar name.

Lara. She heard a male shout out the name Lara. She knew who was in the house then and there. Lara and Oliver had to be inside that building.

There had been a single gunshot, then some shouting between Lara and Oliver. Aris thought that they had survived an attack and went towards the house, thinking that she could meet with them and they could form an alliance and take the fight to the enforcers. Show them who was really in control since they were outnumbered. Their numbers were down to four, and there was still ten students alive, give or take.

Just like when she and her cyber community hacked websites and did those publicity stunts, they were going to send a message to the government while staying away from collateral damage.

But then a second shot rang out, and before Aris knew it, she saw someone being carried outside to the second story porch. Whoever was in the grasp of someone with the hat and neck warmer looked like they were struggling to get out of their grasp, but was either too weak or too injured to do so.

Aris, using her night vision camcorder, zoomed in to see who it was, and saw that it was Oliver Lockard, the guy that many girls told her to stay away from unless she wanted to be sexually harassed legally.

She saw the enforcer bring Oliver to the edge of the porch before lifting him over their head like a log ready to be tossed into a river, before they threw him over the railing and made him land head first into the ground. Aris heard the sickening cracks of Oliver's spine separating from his head as said head turned at an impossible angle. Not only that, but the instant his head hit the ground, a spray of blood shot out from the side of his head, even though it didn't break open.

And like that, Oliver's journey to the ground from the second story of a building lasted less than a second. She thought of what her physics teacher told her about falling. You fall faster than you think you would, the speed increasing until you reached terminal velocity. But until that happened, you fell four feet in half a second. Sixteen feet in one second. And around sixty four feet in two seconds. With that much speed and the force of impact, Oliver's head and neck didn't stand a chance as the earth was much more solid than a human bones.

Aris made no sounds as she was too in shock to say anything anyway. She just looked at Oliver's body and just... Looked. It wasn't until seconds later that she looked up and used her camera recorder to see that Oliver's murderer had disappeared. More than likely to loot Lara and the house.

Just thinking about how that enforcer could get away with that made Aris angry.

Aris knew that she didn't have much of a chance against someone with a gun when all she had was a keyboard, but she had night vision on her side. Along with that she had some fighting experience that she had picked up when she was in Japan. She wasn't an expert by any means, but she had became adapt. Plus, she doubted that the enforcer knew how to fight other than a simple one two punch combination and being strong enough to lift an eighteen year old boy above their head.

 _Send a message to the government and the enforcers._ Aris thought as she walked towards the house. _They may be strong, but they aren't invincible. Two of them are dead, that's proof enough._

As she walked to the house, she knew that what she was doing was reckless, but damn it, she had been reckless before. It was just in her nature. She had to have something to do to pass the time, so what else could she do besides stay in her designated home all day?

Aris liked that lifestyle. After all, when she caused trouble, it was for a purpose and greater good. At least in her opinion, as when she did some of her stunts, it brought her parents to her. Like she had planned.

Her father the ambassador, and her mother the social butterfly, who was also heavily involved in the world of politics, never really had much time for her, so any reason she could bring them to her was a win in her books.

Not only that, but was her activities against the government and the Y.R.A dangerous? Of course it was. But she did it for the greater good. The people were being repressed by the Y.R.A, and she wasn't going to sit around and be suppressed by it either. She liked her freedom. She liked being herself and not being molded by a set of standards. And if she was at all honest, she liked breaking rules.

It didn't make her popular at Horizons, where more students than not preferred to stick to the rules and keep themselves out of trouble, but damn did rules make her feel like she was trapped in a cage at times. But she was no criminal and knew when the line had been crossed.

She didn't try to get attention from her parents by doing drugs, or killing people. Sure she fought against people from time to time because of her opinions and the way she thought. Seeing the world in black and white while also being one to not engage to some societal norms, but she didn't see herself as the bad person.

It was because of that that she made enemies easily. For the simple reason that she didn't like them.

And right now, she really, really, really, didn't like the person that was alive inside that house.

Moving into the position that she thought was of the greatest advantage, and where she thought that the enforcer was going to be when they came out of the house, Aris laid in wait for her golden opportunity.

* * *

Tia felt good.

With all the weapons in her arsenal, she felt like an armory with legs and the means to use the weapons that she held.

Satisfied with her work, Tia took a moment to apply extra bug spray to her person and quickly ate some of the food the now dead students had left untouched.

With that taken care of, Tia went out of the house and back into the darkness.

Tia wondered where the rest of the students were, wondering if there would even be anymore in the farm part of the map. She also wondered if she, Brody, or Raelyn, should go over to the town part of the map, even though that wasn't their designated area to begin with.

She knew why the three of them had choose to come to this part of the map, but with Keith and Sandra dead, Ethan could probably use some backup. And though Tia hadn't received any messages from Ethan, she was seriously considering messaging Brody to go over there and help Ethan.

Though with their phones on silent and not knowing if Brody would even check his phone until daylight, Tia dismissed the idea and rationalized that if one of them wanted to go help Ethan, than they'd do it on their own. Or they'd at least wait until daylight to send a message as a lit up phone screen would compromise their location and allow the students to run from them, form a plan, or just plain attack them since they knew where they were.

Tia didn't need the extra stress, and neither did her fellow enforcers. So she decided against doing anything for now and would stick to her plan.

Walking through the open land, Tia didn't see nor hear the ambush that had been planted for her. Because it was dark and the fact that she had fired off a shotgun inside a building had left her ears ringing, and though they had recovered with time, they still weren't one hundred percent.

Overestimating how much of her hearing had came back, Tia never heard the girl stand up or hear keyboard hit her face until it was too late.

Aris hit Tia across the face so hard that there was an audible crack. And though both combatants couldn't see it, a few of the typing keys escaped their places.

The enforcer was dazed by the sneak attack, and Aris, using what she had learned of iaido, struck hard and fast, wanting to finish the fight as quickly as possible. Tia quickly raised her shotgun, but Aris managed to hit Tia's hand right below the knuckles, causing the weapon to fall from her grasp with a yell before Aris kicked it away.

Bashing Tia's head with the keyboard with strong, precise hits, the larger girl quickly found herself on the ground, her face and mouth in pure torment as she tasted the sick and salty taste of blood inside her mouth.

Aris then started to kick the downed girl in the face and the chest, causing even more pain to wash through the enforcer. And though Aris didn't know it, she had knocked two of the pistols out of Tia's hunting vest and out of reach. Tia grabbed for the Webley revolver and cocked the hammer, but Aris managed to stomp on Tia's hand, purely by accident, and made her fire off a shot into the earth.

Aris, frightened by the shot, swung her keyboard down onto the enforcer's head, making her face smash against the ground and almost making her literally eat dirt if it weren't for the neck warmer covering her mouth.

It was then that Aris noticed the weapon on Tia's back. Grabbing it, Aris looked at it before she noticed that it was a collapsible shovel. Grabbing it with both hands, Aris unfolded it like large folding knife before she bashed it into Tia's face, resulting in a wet crunch, telling Aris that she had broken the enforcer's nose. And if the scream was anything to go by, it hurt her. A lot.

Aris gripped the shovel and raised it high above her head, the pointed tip aiming at the Enforcer's head, ready for the killing blow.

Aris let out an all mighty roar as she threw her weight forward as blinding hot agony lanced through her left ankle. Aris was about to hop in pain, but Tia moved faster, and with her left hand, the enforcer pulled her Ka-Bar combat knife from Aris' ankle, nearly severing it completely as Aris collapsed to the ground and wailed as she clutched her foot, which was now flopping about as blood gushed out, landing on the ground and the enforcer.

Even though Tia was in immense pain, her upper body feeling as if it was covered in fire ants, Tia was more pissed than anything else.

Tia crawled on top of Aris and began to mercilessly stab her in the chest. Though Aris also knew some judo, she was in too much pain, Tia was big and heavy, and Aris was being stabbed quickly and repeatedly. Through her panic, Aris could do nothing but scream and flail her arms, which were pinned underneath Tia's body.

Tia stabbed Aris in the chest over twenty times before she thrust the knife through Aris' lower jaw. Aris, still not dead, chocked on the blood that had built up in her throat. She would have screamed, but with the blood in her throat, the knife in her mouth, and the fact that her tongue had been severed, made it nearly impossible.

The enforcer then pulled the knife out before sticking in angrily into the ground beside her. She then stuck her right hand through the hole below Aris' chin, got a firm grip onto the jaw bone, and began to pull.

Aris gave the best scream she could as Tia heard the jaw pop and crack steadily before it finally came off Aris altogether.

The seventeen year old gave out inhuman sounds and weakly struggled for a couple more seconds before she was finally overcome with shock and passed away.

The eighteen year old enforcer breathed in and out heavily before she raised the bottom of her neck warmer up slightly before she spat out five teeth and a thick wad of blood onto Aris' face.

Tia spat again and again, wanting the pain in her mouth to subside, but it didn't. Not only that, but her nose was broken and she was in a world of hurt.

 _God this hurts. This hurts so fucking much._

Tia wanted nothing more than to just go back to South Carolina, go to a hospital and get attended by a cute nurse and have her friends sneak her in some Jagermeister for her.

But for now, she had a job to do. And right now, she couldn't cry. She had to keep going.

Gathering her weapons, Tia went back to the house and washed her face and weapons with the cold water, doing her best to not expose her entire face.

 _This is why you volunteered._ She told herself as she looked at herself in the mirror. _You volunteered for the hope that others wouldn't end up like this... In time. After all, people aren't as lucky as you or Raelyn, living in the rural or the boonies, away from all that shit._

 **A/N: Hey, look at that, I think I've actually done a decent chapter in months. Damn. I wonder if not being in my down mood actually improves my writing or if I just think it's better.**

 **Anyway, as always, hope you guys enjoy. And yes, I did notice that I forgot to describe what Aris looked like... I'm so sorry, she was such a good looking girl too.**


	19. Burn

People often wondered why she acted the way she did. Why she did the things she did.

They wondered why she choose to stand up for anyone and everyone that even so much as got looked at funny. Why she sat with those loners during lunch and why she just didn't seem to care about her social standing within the school.

They told her that she couldn't be friends with everyone and that if she continued to do the things she did, she'd make enemies.

The reason for why she did the things that she did was simple, really. It was because she didn't want anyone to feel like they had no hope in surviving high school. Not without having serious emotional problems. And if anything, she had seen how cruel people could be at times. And if there was anything that showed how far people could be pushed in modern times, it was the Greenfield massacre and the Y.R.A.

Mary Grace thought that the Greenfield massacre was a tragedy, where people lost their lives for nothing, and that the Y.R.A was the stupidest thing that the government could do given what was already happening to the youths of the country. But that was the power of emotions. They could drive you to do some crazy things. And if there was one thing that she had learned from her brothers, it's that while she had a wide network of friends to vent out her troubles and emotions to, there were a lot of others that weren't as lucky as her. And for as much of a tomboy she was, her brothers still told her that she still had some girly features to her. One of those things was that she expressed herself openly to her friends.

It was something that boys didn't do, as they tend to keep their emotions to themselves. They didn't want to tell their tales of sorrow to their friends unless they wanted to be called a faggot, or something among those lines. Because crying to your male friends when you're a male and talking about your feelings and your problems was something that only girls did. And you didn't want to be seen as a girl. Not only that, but they naturally kept to themselves and preferred to suffer in silence, thinking that they could help themselves in one way or another until they got over it.

So with feelings of rejection, hopelessness, and anger built up over the years due to bullying, Mary Grace could see how some would want revenge in one form or another. How those that had been bullied finally made a stand for themselves against the people that had rejected them and tormented them for years.

So not wanting history to repeat itself, Mary Grace decided that during her remaining school years, she'd try to prevent another school shooting. Give kids hope that there was at least someone out there looking out for you. That there was someone that actually cared and noticed you for something other than a whipping post. And while it didn't put her in the hands of the popular kids, who often spread false rumors and treated those that she tried to help like dirt, she told herself that she was doing the right thing. And doing the right thing was more important than being popular. That, and she felt that if she had been one of those loners, or victims, she'd want someone to sit by her, or have someone stand up for her.

Kids at West Shores High School said that she wasn't looking at the bigger picture, but despite being impulsive and mentally near sighted, Mary Grace rationalized that being rejected by the popular crowd and hanging with the losers was better than having a group of rejects storm the school with guns and watch the news headlines as a transparent figure.

It's why she felt so out of place in The Program.

At West Shores, she knew where she stood and knew what to do. But in The Program, she didn't know where she stood.

Was she the good girl or was she the villain? She wanted to go back home to her parents and annoying brothers. She wanted to be back with her boyfriend and be able to be with her friends again. But in order to do that, she'd have to kill someone unless she was extremely, extremely lucky.

Plus, were the kids she was facing really all that bad, or were they just trying to survive just like she was? Was the boy that pointed that gun at her and Chloe a psychopath, or just someone that wanted to go back home as well?

As much as she didn't want to think about it, those thoughts kept on popping up in her mind without warning, making her just want the battle to be between her and the popular kids again.

Sighing, Mary Grace looked at Chloe and thought of one of them being dead when the time came. And as far as Mary Grace could see, she didn't want to be the one to end her life. Even with the image of bashing the hockey stick against the punk girl's head until her head split open going through her mind, the athlete still didn't want to do it.

She wanted to leave her before it came to blows.

So that's what she did.

When Chloe's back was turned, Mary Grace left her. No warnings and no goodbyes were said. She just left and hoped that they wouldn't meet again.

The darkness made it easy for her to escape. And though she wanted to turn back when she heard Chloe start to look for her, Mary Grace didn't look back. Doing so might have made her go back to her.

* * *

Humiliated and defeated, Evgeni, though he had been spared because the enforcer had seen that he could be a valuable assist to America, was still angry at her for hurting him the way she had. He may have shot at her when she had been a threat, but when he had been defenseless, she had gone way too far.

He wondered if she was the one that had died just now, and felt like she had deserved it in a way for being such a bitch.

Going through houses in search for food, Evgeni thought of how a boy of his age and what he did through the weeks made him need food. A lot. It made him not used to going long without anything to eat as practicing to be an Olympic figure skater really burned the calories out of you.

There were those at his school that considered it a girly sport and often taunted him for wanting to actually participate in such a sport. They could then be seen clutching their heads as Evgeni hit them with his ice skates at the end of the school day.

His parents had told him in the past that he needed to control his anger and not to let people get to him as much as he did, because out on the ice, there would always be people like that. When he got on the ice, there were always going to be rude people in the stands that would do nothing but taunt and yell things just to get a reaction out of a skater. Mostly to watch them fall so that they could fuel the fire. Make the man look like a faggot loser while making sexual comments about the girls.

So after one too many trips to the principals office, Evgeni started to try and focus his anger more into passion to prove them wrong, because while he'd actually be someone later in life, they'd still be in the same dead end standing as they were. To prove his dedication, he got a tattoo of a snowflake on his right shoulder. It helped remind him of where he really belonged.

But while West Shores High School wasn't filled with the most supportive people, it did have those that respected the nature of competitive sports. If anything, one of them was in the game with him now. And back at the school, there was a junior that had taken pity on him and became his guide to high school before becoming his best friend at West Shores.

And outside of school, he had friends as well. They mostly hung out at the skating rink near his house, and that's where he meet his very best friend, Victoria Yuri. She was only twelve, but she could skate with the best of them. They planned to become skating partners when they turned pro, and Evgeni couldn't think of anyone better.

Evgeni, walking around in the dark as he waved off pesky insects that mercilessly bit at him, causing itchy lumps to form on his face and hands, and found a building that looked like a sort of convenience store. Excited, Evgeni ran to it and rushed inside, hearing the bell chime as he looked at all the food and liquids inside. He felt as if he had struck a gold mine and started to take as much of the snacks as he could, stuffing them into his sweatpants and sweatshirt, making sure to grab drinks as well.

Evgeni noticed the bullet holes in the wall, the scattered potato chips, and the destroyed drink holder, but nobody was in the store, so he figured he had time before someone else came.

When he grabbed enough supplies to last a little while, Evgeni decided to get out of there. But not before he heard the entrance bell chime and in walked an injured looking person walk in.

Both of the students looked at each other in shock, but Marcos wasn't as surprised as Evgeni as Marcos had expected people to come inside his base of operations and take some things, which is why he hid some of the supplies in the ceiling. But what he hadn't expected was to run into one just after he had finished off that Asian girl and that enforcer. Not only that, but he was wearing the same black ballistic mask and tactical vest that Evgeni had seen on the enforcer girl earlier.

"It's just me." Evgeni said, putting his hands up when he noticed the mask. But then he noticed the beat up clothes that Marcos wore under the tactical vest instead of the professional clothes that the enforcer wore.

"Hijo de puta!" Marcos shouted in shock as he pointed the sawed off shotgun at the blond white kid and fired.

Evgeni felt the buckshot tear open a softball sized hole in his stomach and tore a hole nearly twice that size in his back the same instant he heard the blast go off.

Evgeni's eyes went wide as his mouth hung open in shock. He grabbed at his stomach as he fell to the floor and screamed out in pure agony.

Marcos, now over his own shock and surprise, quickly walked over to Evgeni and withdrew his kitchen knife. The younger boy looked at the masked boy and pleaded for mercy right before Marcos silenced him by slitting his throat.

Evgeni began to drown in his own blood as Marcos calmly broke open the sawed off and replaced the spent shell. _Its just one thing after another._ Marcos thought. _Hopefully this shit will be done soon and I can put this all behind me... Again..._

* * *

Elvira was a solitary creature by nature. So even though she had been alone for most of the time during her time in The Program, she was quite enjoying herself. The fact that she got to inflect some fun on two other students certainly helped the matter too.

Tinkering with some homemade weapons that she had decided to make from the scraps laying around the liquor store, Elvira was absolutely ecstatic. Besides the firebombs that were readily available, she had also made herself some corrosion weapons thanks to the supplies she had found. So not only could someone burn, their skin would sizzle as the oils on their skin betrayed them, thanks to them reacting to the chemicals she had thrown on them.

To the common eye though, they looked like little more than harmless water balloons. And though they weren't water balloons persay, they looked close to them as they were actually disposable rubber gloves that she had tied up. There were other things that she'd like to create, such as the zip gun that had been taken away from her some time before she had entered The Program, but she couldn't find the equipment and there just wasn't enough time for her as she saw The Program quickly coming to an end.

Still, she hadn't had so much fun since she had tortured those bullies at her school all those years ago.

Rubbing her stomach, which was littered with self inflected wounds, she gave out a blissful moan. There was no need to hide who she was when she was here participating in The Program. She could do whatever she wanted, and when she got out, she'd just pretend to be the good girl that everyone expected her to be. And of course, she could justify her behavior in The Program as just doing what she needed to do to survive. She'd say that she didn't know what came over her, and there'd be no contradicting evidence to say otherwise.

After all, what else did you basically do in Virginia other than survive and try to make the most of the shitty situation given to you? After she graduated from Crystal Rivers High School, she planned on becoming a nurse, or even a doctor. There she could see all the people in pain that she could ever want, and if she was completely truthful, there would be some accidents waiting to happen while she was there.

Of course, she couldn't just keep on giving out accidents while she was on shift. No. It would arouse suspicion given time. She'd have to do it mostly to patients that had no chance of living and were seen as hopeless cases.

Still, watching the human body at work at a hospital would be like a dream to her. She had the grades to go to a university, and they'd see that she was not like the other hopeless kids at that school.

And it's not like she'd be very much missed at home either as her parents had died when she was three. Her foster mom had contracted Pneumonia and died last year as well.

Lucky for her, she didn't have to live out in the streets. Instead, she lived in a house with her sister, Carmen, who was able to afford a place for the time being.

Carmen, being five years older than Elvira, kept to herself as well. With two anti-social girls living in the same house, it was safe to say that neither of them interacted with each other very much. As a result, it was almost like the two girls lived by themselves.

Elvira didn't see a reason to kill her sister, even though nobody would miss her, since she was the one bringing in the money to pay for the house mortgage. Doing what Elvira didn't know, and didn't care, as long as she kept on being useful.

 _But then again, after I win The Program, she won't have much use anyway._

Elvira smiled at that thought as plans spun through her mind, each one better than the last.

She sighed dreamily right before she was ripped from those blissful thoughts in surprise due to the sound of glass being shattered in the other room.

Thinking that someone was inside the liquor store, Elvira got some of her chemical bombs, which had been placed in a bucket, and looked at the liquor store security tapes in front of her. Thanks to the benefits of breaking into the manager's office, she could see things without having to expose herself to unneeded danger.

She couldn't see anyone inside or outside the store, as they were outside the cameras gazes. But what she did see were several hard objects, small pots and their lids, being thrown into the store and destroying liquor bottles, causing the liquids to splash around and pool onto the floor.

Elvira wondered what they were doing when suddenly, she saw a small flaming comet soar through the air and into the store before it landed in one of the lakes of hard liquor. The liquids ignited and flames came into existence where the puddle of alcohol was been spilled.

More fiery comets came in rapid succession, resulting in even more of the store to be subjected to fire.

Elvira saw what they were trying to do, but she wasn't going to come out of her hiding spot as the fire would go out soon and she was safer behind a door than she was out there.

But then she saw metal containers being thrown into the fire, and saw that not only had the fire spontaneously grown in size, but thick black smoke was being formed as well. It was then that Elvira realized that they were trying to smoke her out.

Remembering the fire procedures they taught in elementary school, Elvira opened the door, feeling the rush of heat hit her in the face and chest, only enough that she could get out before she dropped to her stomach and began to crawl. She was careful not to breath in too much of the smoke. Just as she did that, the smoke alarms inside the store began to wail.

They hadn't done that earlier when that boy had caught fire because there wasn't enough smoke for them to trip, but now there was more than enough inside the store.

Elvira made a crawl for the back exit, feeling the heat inside the store build up by the second, as she heard aluminum canisters hitting the floor followed by a steady floosh sound. And from what she could see, it was like the building was filling up with smoke even faster. Not only that, but with the heat of the fire and the smoke trying to get into her lungs, she felt something burning on her skin. Not like fire burning, like she had done to herself in the past, but it like some kind of biological weapon was being used on her skin.

Elvira didn't know what it was, but she kept on going, her high pain tolerance allowing her to not start panicking yet.

As more canisters hit the floor, Elvira kept a relatively cool head as she reached the emergency exit located at the back of the store. Standing up and trying to bash it open, she discovered that it wouldn't budge. It was then that Elvira realized that someone had blocked it with something on the outside, and she couldn't get it open and escape that way.

The girl breathed in a lungful of smoke and that biological agent and began to hack her lungs out, feeling like they were on fire.

She got back on the ground for the best air she could get inside the store, but it felt as if something hot, spicy, and smoky was clawing at her skin. Her eyes burned and the inside of her mouth and nose was in torment as they began to water. The rest of her face and exposed skin felt as if it had caught on invisible fire. Elvira thought that someone was using some kind of Nazi chemical gas on her.

With all of that combined, it became too much, even for her. She began to panic.

She ran towards the front of the store and ran out the door, just narrowly avoiding one of her own traps, and desperately breathed in fresh air as she feel to her hands and knees, only to find that fresh air made the painful tingling worse as she continued to harshly cough as thick ropes of saliva poured from her mouth. Her vision became a blur as well.

 _This isn't right!_ Elvira screamed inside her head. _People are supposed to come to me and I'm supposed to trap them! Not the other way around! I'm smarter than they are! I had this all planned out!_

As her eyes ran with tears and her nose ran with snot, Elvira alternated between coughing and spitting as a figure in a balaclava and a beetle black helmet came up beside her, casually wielding a sledge hammer like he was an on duty construction worker.

Ethan looked at the mess of a girl for a second before he slammed the hammer into her head, breaking it apart like a diabolical cantaloupe. Bits of skull and brain matter flew everywhere as one of Elvira's eyeballs shot out of it's socket upon impact on the ground and, along with chunks of skull and brain, hit Ethan in the leg.

Elivra, was now silent.

Ethan looked at the mess in front of him before he cleaned his war hammer on her clothes, thinking of how he had came up with the plan.

He had found turpentine inside a house, and knew that he could smoke someone out eventually. He had collected pots and lids from the kitchen area to break open the liquor bottles, not for the purpose of trying to smoke them out or to try and burn the building down, but so that he could see inside the damn place.

And once the fire had started, throw in the containers of turpentine.

Though, if she were stubborn or stupid, she could die of carbon monoxide for all he cared.

But that wasn't the only thing his plan involved. He didn't know if they had a gun or not, so he had to make sure that they were at least disorientated. And he had found the perfect thing for that. Homemade tear gas.

He hated to admit it, but after he found the necessary ingredients, he thought of the first winner of The Program. Nelson Bowers and the large scale riot that he and numerous other students from various schools from across the country had participated in in Washington DC just after the government had passed the bill to allow The Program to take place. Back when the Y.R.A had just started to take effect and The Program was still being debated upon by the leaders of the country.

The improvised weapons and explosives they used to take on the riot police, the national guard, and even the armed forces, was what gave Ethan the idea for the improvised tear gas.

 _How many people died during that riot? How many more were injured? And the destruction that took place... God. It was like witnessing the L.A riots, or a war zone, or something._

He hadn't been there himself, but he could only imagine how bad it was since the government went through a ton of effort to try and rid as much of it as possible from the internet and the news, and did a pretty fucking good job at it. Nobody liked to talk about it as it was still a sensitive topic to those around The Capitol and the neighboring states. And even out in places further than that, school refused to teach about it and banned their students from even talking and trying to research it, believing that another could take place.

In fact, as far as Ethan knew, most high school kids thought that the whole thing was just a rumor spread by some anti-Y.R.A activist. And from what he saw, most adults didn't talk about it. Or at least, out in the open.

 _It's probably why Nelson's the winner that campaigns to have the Y.R.A dismissed as soon as possible the hardest. And the one that helps people with P.T.S.D, tries to discourage violent protests, and the like._

Briefly wondering if she knew about the DC bloodbath, Ethan told himself that it didn't matter if she did or not anymore before he walked away from the blazing inferno.

* * *

By now, most kids would be fast asleep. But those that were still alive in The Program were wide awake, even if they wanted to go to sleep, so they all heard the sounds of the speakers scattered through the battle zone blare to life.

"Morning students and fellow patriots, this will be the last time you hear my voice until the winner has been announced. You're all so close to going home and should be looking towards what you'll do when you're finally reunited with your friends and family. But you've all probably thought about that the entire time, so I'll quit wasting time and read out the names of the recently deceased."

The man could be heard clearing his throat before he began reading. "In tenth place is Lara Springs, quickly followed by Oliver Lockard who took ninth place. Eight place goes to Aris Carselle. In seventh place is Ev-JEH-nee RA-ki-tich. I think that's how you say it. And finally, just now taking sixth place, Elvira Noire. That leaves only five of you students left. If you're lucky, maybe you'll live to see one final sunrise. Good luck, and may God bless you all."

And with that, the transmission was terminated.


	20. Futures

Neither of them could sleep. Not that she wanted to anyway. Not just because of the fact that if she went to sleep that she could be asleep forever, but because of the simple fact that she wasn't even that tired. She just didn't want to.

Indeed, Rachel Bradshaw wasn't as heavily distraught as she had been, and while she'd still get lost in her own regretful thoughts from time to time it wasn't as bad as before. But if anything, after talking to Kiri for a little bit, letting her feelings vent a little, she did feel better. It also helped that Kiri was a good listener as well.

Fiddling with the cross around her neck, Rachel thought of her current situation and of how people, because of the turmoil that had been taking place for over a decade, told her that her faith was nothing more than a fool's thought. They told her that God was dead, and didn't care about what happened on earth anymore than how a psychopath cares about others.

They asked her how she could believe in God and all his love when the country was going to shit and things were only getting worse? With the Greenfield massacre marking the beginning of a new era, to the rebellious youth movement that seemed nigh unstoppable, to the economic downfall, to the creation of the Y.R.A, to the government allowing The Program to take place. How could she believe that an all loving being with so much power could just allow it to happen? To be so unforgiving.

Thing was though, was that while Rachel believed in God, heaven, hell, and all that stuff, she didn't expect him to come down and rain divine justice for every sinful act, nor did she expect him to fix everyone's problems just because they prayed to him every night and believed.

No. She believed that he allowed humans to have free will so that everyone could decide their own fate. For it didn't matter if you were born a certain way or in a certain lifestyle, you could become anything, and it was up to you to break through the obstacles in your way. Sure it could seem impossible for some to achieve their dream, what they did accomplish when they at least tried to do it wasn't a waste of time or effort. What they learned could be placed to good use somewhere else.

And while something big probably wouldn't happen in a single lifetime, like the civil rights movements for the coloured people all those years back, but if you wanted something for the future, you did something to make the gears start to get motion.

Just the actions of one person could make a difference years, or even decades or centuries before it became a reality. They could inspire people, start a movement, a revolution for a better future.

But in this day and age, people were narrow sighed, impatient, selfish, wanting things right then and there when it was impossible. Like those riots against the government conducted by those Anti-Y.R.A activists. The Y.R.A wouldn't end that day, or even the next, no matter how many cops or politicians they killed that day. If anything, they just made things worse in her opinion.

That's why she went for the more peaceful ways. Helping the less fortunate by giving out food and shelter at a food bank and stuff. 'Changing the world, one full stomach at a time' one of the priests had told her. Slow, and probably wouldn't change much in a day or a week by the looks of ordinary eyes, but if you looked down deeper, it made people less likely to go out and rob someone for money or food. It made the community a little more safe, however small it was.

She didn't know if Brad had seen the world that way, but when he rescued those puppies that were being abandoned in the desert, he was giving someone else a little bit of joy in their life. And a friend that wouldn't betray you.

Probably save a life to, as she had seen service dogs help war vets, those with epilepsy, and those with bipolar disorder. _Brad probably just saw himself saving the dogs, and wanted to give them a good home. Maybe he wanted to make people happy as well._

It was the little things in life that counted, really.

 _Things happen for a reason._ Rachel thought as she continued to rub her fingers across the smooth surface of steel and silver. _So why are Brad and I in The Program? Why is someone like Kiri in here as well? If she were smart she'd have abandoned me and look after herself. Left me in that church instead of having to babysit me. Really, why are we all in The Program? Why was Toph and Hannah chosen as well? I mean, as annoying as he was, Toph might have been able to do some good in the world, but he's dead now._

Knowing that she didn't have the mental capacity to know how the universe operated like it did, Rachel just stopped thinking about it and turned her gaze towards Kiri. Having had her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could make out the smaller girl's figure close to her. _Not many people would have done what she did._ Rachel thought. _Trying to save me from myself._ And though she did still feel bad, she was at least able to function again. Rachel was grateful that Kiri had made her come. And what Kiri had said was true. Would Brad have wanted her to stay in that church with his corpse, crying for the rest of the game until she found someone that would kill her? No he wouldn't.

For the first time in hours, Rachel cracked a smile smile. _Great. She's infected me with her kind spirit. I'm not thinking about finding a way to die. And... Well... Maybe she's the reason I'm here in the first place. Because if it weren't for her, I'd have stayed in that church until I died, with or without Brad dying. But... What am I to Kiri?_

Rachel didn't get to think about it too much before she heard the sound of someone trying to open the front door.

Rachel suddenly stopped playing with her cross and snapped her head up. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Kiri had done the same, and was holding the MP five submachine gun at the ready.

"What was that?" Kiri said more than asked, as it was obvious what it was. The sound of the doorknob continued to turn and turn, but it wouldn't open. Rachel thanked Kiri for locking the doors and pulling the curtains around the windows closed so that they'd be a little bit safer in the house.

The sound of the door knob turning stopped before silence engulfed the two girls again. The only sound Rachel could hear was her own heartbeat, which was pounding against her chest as she had been sure that the intruder would have tried to bust down the door.

Hours seemed to pass before the two girls let out a sigh or relief, only for the back door to start acting up. Both girls let out tiny gasps before Kiri turned the weapon towards the now violated back door. Whoever was outside was being rougher with the back door than they had been with the front before they left that as well.

Now Rachel was on edge as she didn't know what was going to happen next.

Her answer came seconds later when a kitchen window began to crack. Both girls gasped again and looked towards where the sound was coming from. Whoever was at the window struck the glass again and again, the sound of glass cracking become more and more crackling before it finally shattered.

Rachel was then sure that she had seen someone start to climb through the window.

"It's climbing in!" Rachel screamed out before Kiri opened fire on the window. Bullets tore through the air and scattered as they exited the gun barrel. Rachel heard bullets hit the wall, cupboards, and the sink. She was also sure she heard someone give out a surprised gasp for an instant only.

And then, there was nothing besides the ringing in their ears and their heavy breathing. And that, was somehow more frightening than the sounds of the recent home invasion. "Did you get it?" Rachel asked nervously.

"I'm not sure." Kiri answered, even more nervously than the older girl.

Both girls looked at each other, and like they read each others minds, they slowly advanced towards where they had seen the shadowy figure. Scared that it was just playing possum, Kiri had the weapon trained on the figure.

They heard nothing but their breathing, their footsteps, and their hearts hammering in their chests as they approached the kitchen. They got to the window and saw that something was slumped halfway through the window, like the darkness outside had decided to stick it's tongue through the window.

Rachel, who was holding a lighter that Kiri had found inside the house due to Kiri having no other pockets than the loose ones on her sweatshirt, pulled it from her jeans and lit it up. What the girls saw in the weak light was a girl, more than half her body still covered in shadows, with blue hair and purple bangs with a bloody face. Her right eye was replaced with a gaping hole with sickly yellow liquid dripping out of it and onto the counter. A hole in the back of her skull expelled brain matter onto the curtains. The girl's face was in a look of permanent bewilderment.

The sight was bad enough for the girls, even if they had seen death just hours ago, that they both let out a scream. Rachel dropped the lighter and Kiri, knowing that she was the cause of it, just barely made it to the sink to vomit her guts out.

* * *

Some time had passed, and Marcos Sánchez had mostly recovered from his fight with the enforcer chick. He felt good enough to fight. And with freedom so close he could taste it, he got his entire arsenal ready for battle, triple checking to see that his handgun magazines were topped up as much as they could be and making sure a round was in the chamber and the sawed off shotgun had two fresh shells inside.

For the past little while, Marcos had been sharpening the kitchen knife with a rock he had found outside the store. While it wasn't razor sharp, it was more than lethal enough to kill.

He adjusted the tactical vest to make sure that it was comfortable and everything was in it's place.

He then did a quick prayer to La Santa Muerte for good luck before he dawned the black ballistic mask walked towards where the sound of gunfire had occurred with a purpose. Like a cartel hitman, ready to take out those that stood in the way of him and the completion his sacred mission.

* * *

Mary Grace King, though she was scared of getting shot, knew that if there were people fighting each other with gunfire, there was a great chance that more or more of the combatants would get injured, and at least one of them would end up dead. And while she didn't have a gun herself she did have a hockey stick. And while that wasn't impressive at first glace, she could get a gun from the fallen. Or maybe they'd run out of ammo and she could use her strength to overpower them.

Either way, she was going to go to where the gunfire had erupted, hide for a while, and take out a poor fucker when they least expected it. From there, she'd find a way to make it home.

 **A/N: The next chapter might be long as it'll be the final chapter within The Program. After that will be a couple of chapters or so with the winner dealing with their victory.**


	21. Culmination

Though both girls were still stuck in a state of emotional hysteria and distraught, they both knew that because of the gunshots that Kiri had fired off, that the most peaceful and tranquil moment that either of them had felt within their duration of The Program had came to an end. And that soon, they'd be facing their most terror filled and dangerous moment of their annual program.

After letting Kiri finish up vomiting up her insides and just standing there in a dazed and confused state of mind, Rachel eventually told herself that they had to take action before action was taken on them. She did not want another church incident to happen. This time, she wasn't going to be taken off guard and just stand around waiting to be rescued, or wait for death to take her. Instead, she was going to do something. And maybe, just maybe, things would turn out different and for the better.

Looking at Kiri, Rachel knew that they weren't close. Heck, they weren't even friends as they had literally spent less than a day together. Yet, Rachel couldn't think of herself as someone that would just abandon the poor girl to face whatever horrors were to soon knock on the door before kicking it open. She wouldn't be able to live with herself even if she did survive the whole ordeal. And what if she did run away and it wasn't the finale she thought it was going to be? What if she survived the incident only to be killed later?

On a logical level, Rachel didn't know if this was going to be the last stand or not, so it was better to stay with the protection of two people and a house to provide some cover from the assault. On the emotional and moral level, Rachel wouldn't see herself being one to abandon someone that risked their live, time, and effort on the temporarily broken person she was.

No. Everything about the situation told her that no matter what she was doing, this was the one choice she could make right now that she could live with. Whether it resulted in life or death was of secondary concern. But yes, she did want to live with most of herself intact. Mentally and physically.

Rachel, acting like what she envisioned an army sergeant would do in such a situation, started to yell orders to Kiri, telling her that they didn't have much time to start preparing for the attack that was soon to come and made plans as she went.

Kiri, surprised to see such a side to Rachel, was temporarily frozen in place as she tried to piece together what had made Rachel change so suddenly. What had made her go from the quiet and withdrawn girl that she had to drag out of the church, to a girl that had been pouring her heart out, to the girl that was screaming commands at her like she was large and in charge?

It was yet, another change that Kiri had to get over. She knew that people changed, but she didn't think that it would be so drastic. Not only that, but she had no idea what was going on and nearly twenty hours of near constant anxiety and unrest were getting to her.

It wasn't until Rachel told Kiri that she couldn't fortify the house by herself that Kiri finally snapped out of her stupor and assisted Rachel into quickly barricading the house to hold off the intruders that were sure to come. Kiri just chalked it up how The Program worked. You just had to go along with whatever came your way, no matter what it was.

They didn't bother with reducing their noise to make someone think that they were in another house as they didn't see the point.

They managed to block the front and back door by pushing large and heavy wooden chairs in front of them. They locked all the doors and windows, while also setting up a defensive position made of couches, tables, and chairs stacked up on one another, resulting in a haphazard semi-circular defensive wall.

Neither of the girls knew if it was going to be very effective or not as they had no idea what the enemy arsenal had with them, but it was better than nothing.

When they were done, Rachel asked what weapons Kiri had, to which she answered with; A heavy revolver, a pistol, a submachine gun, and a pickax handle. It was a devastating blow to see that the submachine gun only had half a magazine left while the Colt Anaconda and Walther PPK didn't have as many bullets as the girls would have liked either.

Rachel then asked for the revolver and explained that she was stronger than Kiri and would be able to maintain it better than she could, to which Kiri gave no objections as she could see that she could barely handle the MP five. Granted that it was a submachine gun, but Kiri didn't fancy her chances with a weapon as powerful as the point forty four.

When Kiri asked Rachel whether she'd be okay with the heavy weapon, Rachel told her that she wouldn't try to kill herself.

While it did make Kiri calmer, she then made her concerns clearer, wondering if Rachel was going against her religion of thou shall not kill. Rachel then explained to Kiri that it was actually thou shall not murder and went on to explain the difference. And the more she talked, the more she got into it, like she was teaching a bright eyed and willing to learn kid. She started to talk about stories from books she read and compared them to sin and morality as well as chattering about things that just came to her mind.

It was then that Kiri thought she saw the person that Brad fell for. The girl that was full of ambition, hopes, and dreams. The one that was passionate about what she did. Brad had told Kiri that he was a typical shy kid, and she could see how a talkative childhood friend could get him to develop feelings for her.

 _I wonder if her change of personalities was from the drama club Brad didn't want to join. That she's just taking the role that she thinks she needs to take._

Brad and Rachel, they were the same, but different. It brought a smile to Kiri's face as quickly as memories of not too long ago made it fade.

 _I'll get her out of here._ Kiri told herself with determination. _I will. She's got so much more go-_

Her thoughts and Rachel's talking came to an abrupt stop as the sound of glass shattering occurred to their right. Both girls turned towards where the sound had came from, only to see something that they dreaded to see the most within The Program.

In the lit up battle zone thanks to the raising sun, they could clearly see what was outside.

With a black ballistic mask and beat up flannel shirt under a black tactical vest, the girls came eye to eye with what they thought was an enforcer and began to panic. It caused both girls to want it gone immediately, resulting in their fear sky rocketing as the memories of their first and only encounter with an enforcer surfaced. And though they wanted the enforcer to be gone, their movements were frozen.

Marcos saw their fear and took full advantage of that as he destroyed the rest of the window frame glass with the barrel of his sawed off shotgun. By the time he was done, the girls were over their initial shock and started to fight back.

Kiri and Rachel pointed their guns at Marcos as he dropped to his belly and started to shake up a water bottle filled with powder and liquid as bullets flew over his head. He heard the sound of an off key type writer go off, lasting nearly a second before one of the girls cried out a fearful oh no.

Marcos didn't know what exactly that entailed, but he knew that it meant that the girls were having trouble with something.

He took that to his advantage and stood up, feeling the pressure building up within the water bottle as he threw it towards the girl's makeshift barricade.

At first, the girls looked at the water bottle in confusion, wondering why something like that'd be thrown inside, when Rachel got a sinister feeling about it as it landed on top of a chair near them. She looked at it and saw a foam like substance building up inside the plastic bottle.

"Get down!" She ordered before she grabbed Kiri's head with the crock of her arm and shoved her to the floor along with herself. A whole second passed by, but to Rachel and Kiri, it felt like a minute before the water bottle finally exploded, sending the vulgar smell of vinegar and baking soda splashing through the area along with the sound of something tinkling scraping against wood.

Rachel looked to the floor close to her, and saw that shards of glass had embedded themselves into the floor.

 _Shards of glass inside an exploding water bottle._ Rachel thought with horror. _Only a psychopath would think of something like that._

But through that thought, Rachel knew that there were bigger problems ahead.

Getting herself off Kiri, Rachel opened up the revolver and dumped out the spent casings, letting them hit the floor with a hollow sounding plinks, telling and showing her once again that they had forgot to check it and see if it was functional. _The same thing that doomed Brad could doom us as well._ "Kiri, shoot him." Rachel demanded.

Kiri dropped the now useless submachine gun and pulled out her compact pistol before she peeked over the barricade for just an instant as a bullet carved a notch off part of the table she was behind, causing her to duck back down in fear.

Pure terror ran through her body as she began to sweat and shake and breath heavier. But a much darker thought came to her as well. _I don't have to last long._ Kiri told herself. _Just long enough._

She poked her head out again, and was able to get a better look at the black masked person before they pointed their pistol at her again and fired. Kiri, once again, backed down to the safety of cover.

Marcos, meanwhile, outside of the house, was shaking another one of his improvised explosives. It wasn't graceful, or very destructive, but it would do the job. Not that he was very good with improvised explosives anyway.

The convenience store had offered a lot of things. But not many people would have seen turning a childhood experiment into something deadly.

Shaking up the mixture of baking soda, vinegar, and glass, Marcos shot another pistol bullet towards the girls to keep them down before he replaced the pistol with the sawed off. He then tossed in a virtually full box of baking soda and let it sail across the room before he blasted it with buckshot, causing a cloud of off white powder rain down over the girls and create a poor, but effective enough, smoke screen. It was then that Marcos took the time to aim and toss the water bottle bomb towards the girls.

Inside, Rachel had just finished loading the Colt Anaconda as the off white powder came down on her like a mixture between ominous fog and snow. _What's going on?_ Rachel wondered as she could still pretty well see in front of her, but she couldn't see that far.

She saw Kiri waving her hands about, trying to clear the smog as a water bottle rolled off a chair and into the protective barricade. Gasping, Rachel grabbed the bottle and threw it back where it had came from with all her might. The bottle exploded in mid air and Rachel feel shards of glass slice through her face and scalp as a couple pieces hit her in the chest. A few had hit her arms, but her jacket had protected her.

As a result, Rachel gave out a wounded cry.

"Rachel," Kiri cried out with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Rachel told her, feeling her torso area, finding that the wounds were shallow and the glass could easily be pulled out of her chest. Her face and scalp however, were bleeding. Her face was on fire and lines of blood had already started to drool out from her wounds.

Holding her hands to her face, Rachel gave out a moan.

Kiri, concerned for Rachel, wanted to help her, but she knew that she had to keep guard. Because if she didn't, that masked figure would have a better chance of getting to Rachel.

Kiri upped her body towards the window where she had last seen the masked figure, and ducked down again, expecting another shot to come in her direction. But it didn't. Kiri wondered if the powder was blocking their point of view as well when on nearly the other side of the house, the roar of a shotgun occurred.

Both girls turned towards the sound of the blast.

Marcos, seeing that his smoke screen wouldn't last much longer, went to one of the main doors and blew the lock and door knob off before he kicked the door open. The sunrise was shining behind him, making him look like some kind of divine like figure.

Before either girl could see through the now almost clear powder cloud, Marcos unleashed another round of buckshot, tearing apart a chunk of the barricade and nearly killing Rachel by an inch.

Both girls screamed and fired at where Marcos was, only for Marcos to find refuge behind the wall. Even though two different kinds of guns were shooting at him, all the bullets were missing as Marcos quickly, but relatively calmly, reloaded his sawed off.

 _They're scared_. Marcos thought as bullet holes formed on the wall around him. _They've never had something like this happen to them. They don't know what they're doing, and they don't know what to do. Firing wildly and wasting their ammo, letting their fear take over._

Indeed, the girls were scared, and while Marcos was calmly waiting for them to cease their fire, the girls were rapidly pulling their triggers in the hopes to kill the masked youth, resulting in bullets going only in the general direction of their target.

The two of them ran out of bullets at nearly the same time, resulting in their panic to increase ten fold as they struggled to reload their weapons. Rachel fumbled with placing the fresh casing into the cylinder while Kiri struggled to load the magazine in properly.

With a lull in the fire fight, Marcos drew his pistol and held it in his left hand while holding his sawed off in his right. _One shell for the gringa, another for the jap._

Marcos then entered the house, firing the pistol with controlled speed as he closed the distance between him and his targets.

Kiri, who had just managed to get the magazine into her gun and got the slide forward, started to blind fire at the boy in the house. But all the bullets were going wide, seemingly hitting everything but her target.

While there was ringing in her ears and the sounds of shots being fired inside a house was noisy, Rachel, hearing and seeing bullets continue flying her way, closed up the cylinder of the revolver, only half way finished reloading, and peeked her head out enough that most of her body was still behind cover, but enough that she could see who she was shooting at.

Rachel saw the black masked figure and pointed her gun at him, ready to fire a bullet into his chest when Marcos swiftly lifted his sawed off shotgun and fired a load of buckshot through Rachel's head. Everything from Rachel's upper jaw and the top of her forehead turned into chunks of bloody skull fragments and pulpy brown brain matter as her hair and scalp blew away like a grotesque and disturbing wig that had gotten caught by a sudden gust of wind.

Blood and brain splattered onto the wall and pictures behind Rachel's body. As well as Kiri's face.

Kiri felt the hot and disgusting organic matter splash on her face and run down it as she screamed and viciously wiped her face to get it off, but all it seemed to do was smear it over more of her face and get it on her hands like cake batter.

Kiri couldn't help but dry heave before she heard the sound of wood behind kicked and being scattered. Kiri looked up and saw that the black masked figure had kicked open a hole in the barricade she and Rachel had made. And that's when she noticed the sawed off shotgun that was being raised.

Kiri gave out a scream before she pointed her pistol at the masked boy and fired off a shot. It knocked the boy to the floor as a shotgun blast went off, peppering the ceiling with holes. Sawdust sprinkled down as a result.

 _Oh God! Did... Did I kill him?_ Kiri thought with dread, not daring to look at what she had done again. Instead, she dry heaved again, making horrible noises from her mouth as she dry heaved yet again. Something sickening, wet, and chunky rolled down from her hair, down her face, and into her mouth. Kiri didn't need to see it to know that it was a chunk of Rachel's brain, which made her dry heave again, but this time, cables of saliva escaped her mouth as her vision blurred and her chest seemed to collapse upon itself.

 _And Rachel. I was supposed to protect her. I promised Chris and myself that I'd protect her. I failed._ Kiri, then began to silently cry, feeling like what the kids at Sunny Coast High School thought of her as. A worthless girl that brought misery and death everywhere she went.

As Kiri cried, she didn't notice that Marcos was now groaning in immense pain. He had been knocked out for only seconds, but it felt like hours to the hispanic student as his head pounded like a jackhammer.

The bullet had hit the ballistic mask, which had saved him from death by deflecting the bullet, but damn did it hurt.

Groaning as he slowly, shakily, got to his feet. Bits of the mask, that was cracked due to being hit at such close range, started to flak off and fall to the floor.

 _This fucking chica_. Marcos thought as he reloaded his Glock twenty two.

Just as he was about to put a point forty Smith and Wesson bullet into Kiri's skull, a hockey stick hit him square in the face. It caused him to yell in agony as where he had gotten shot at got hit again.

Marcos turned towards his new adversary and saw someone that was wearing a mask like him, but it was a simple hockey mask instead. They also wore a grey sleeve less tank top and a backwards ball cap. He recognized her. She was the girl that had gotten away at the convince store with her blue haired friend.

And just like he recognized her, she recognized his clothes soon after.

Marcos, dazed and confused, pointed the pistol at Mary Grace King, but the girl simply continued to bash him over the head with her stick like weapon, making him pay for trying to rob and kill her and Chloe.

It was then that Kiri noticed that she wasn't alone, like she thought she had been before. And when she looked up, she saw something that she thought she wouldn't ever see. She saw two masked figures fighting each other. _Two enforces fighting each other?_ She thought in bewilderment as the one in the hockey mask just seemed to dominate the battle as the black masked one was being pushed back.

Blow after blow came at Marcos, and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't fire his gun, and he couldn't fight back. He was powerless. The mask protected him some, but the blunt force trauma was only making his head and vision worse by the second. To make matters worse, the mask as steadily breaking apart thanks to it's weakened state.

He backed away quickly and pointed the gun at his opponent, but a quick and brutal slap with the hockey stick broke his fingers and made him drop the weapon with a scream and sickening crunch.

After a few more hits, the damaged mask flew off his face, and the real punishment began.

With nothing to protect his face, Mary Grace beat his face in with terrifying ferocity. Marcos' face began to morph as it started to cave in and deform like a jack-o-lantern left to rot over the holidays. Teeth flew from his mouth and bits of facial skin came off as well, only adding to the effect. In a more disturbing addition, Marcos' left eye was bulging from it's socket, looking ready to pop out at any moment.

After several more devastating blows, Marcos' skull began to crack, sending mists of blood to fly from his head.

Marcos, unable to even speak, simply slide down the wall and looked at his attacker with a sense of dread.

While escaping Latin America to the United States, the land of hopes and dreams, he dreamed of not having to fight to survive and dying a horrible death. And yet, here he was. In The Program and dying a painful and horrible death.

 _I escaped for a reason._ Marcos said to himself before his brain signals ceased to exist thanks to a final blow to the head. His skull cracking seemed to echo through out the entire house.

Marcos's body then slumped to the side and did nothing else, for there was no reason to anymore.

Mary Grace looked at her defeated opponent and took his pistol.

"Hey." Kiri said weakly, startling Mary Grace as she thought that she was the only one left in the building after killing that masked guy. Mary Grace flailed about for a moment before she pointed the Glock twenty two at Kiri, who didn't even seem to move with a firearm pointed at her. "I don't know why you're fighting your allies, but it shouldn't concern me anyway."

Mary Grace looked at the half asian girl with confusion, wondering what she was talking about, because as far as she knew, she wasn't allies with anyone anymore. Not since she broke away from Chloe to avoid hurting her herself. But from what Mary Grace had seen from the window behind her, breaking away from Chloe hadn't stopped her from dying. Mary Grace knew that she hadn't betrayed Chloe, but in a way, she hadn't helped her either, and that filled her with guilt. "I accidentally killed another student earlier in the night, and one's dead beside me now."

Mary Grace looked and saw that there was indeed someone next to the shorter girl. Only this girl had half her head missing. Mary Grace felt sick just looking at it. Just like she was with seeing Chloe and seeing her murderer right in front of her. "So counting me, there's three students left in the runnings. Kill me and there will only be two left for you to deal with."

"None, actually." Mary Grace responded as she took off her hockey mask to show off her face. "I'm not an enforcer. Never will be. I don't agree with the Y.R.A like they do." Mary Grace then dropped her mask to the floor, not seeing a point to it anymore. When she had first taken the hockey mask, it was to scare people and offer protection to her face, but she didn't want it anymore. It made her feel like something that she wasn't. Someone that would kill on a whim and feel no guilt about it, because while she had killed the hispanic just now he had shot at her first, with the intent to kill. And while she didn't kill Chloe herself she felt as if she had. "I recognize that boy, the one I just killed. He attacked me and another girl earlier. The girl that's sticking in through your window. The one you killed. So if what you said is true, there's only you and me left."

As Mary Grace pointed the gun at the girl, she thought about shooting her in the head, ending the horrible experience that was The Program for her. It would be easy, and it would be quick for the girl in front of her. She'd finally be able to go home to her friends and family. It would be the end of the road for the both of them.

 _Just do it already._ Mary Grace told herself as she pointed the gun to the girl's head, struggling to get her index finger to curl enough so that a bullet would exit the barrel. _Just do it and get it over with._

And though she really, really, really wanted to go home, something about shooting the girl just seemed wrong. Unlike the others that she had fought in The Program, the girl in front of her was no threat. She didn't try to fight back or harm her in anyway. It just felt wrong to execute the girl. Not only that, but she seemed guilty about killing Chloe as well. Even if she had killed her accidentally, she still felt something.

Even when she had been trapped in the middle of that gang fight back home and taken hold of a gun, she just fired the damn thing to keep people away. Her goal wasn't to kill people, it was to keep them away.

As she took all of that into account, two voices started to fight inside her head.

 _She killed Chloe. By accident. She's of no threat to you. The only threat she is is of you going home in a body bag or not, because there's still enforcers out there that'll kill one of us. You'll be no better than they are if you do this, she's defenseless and has done nothing to you. Except kill one of your school mates._

As Mary Grace was fighting herself to pull the trigger, the sound of aluminum canisters hitting the floor close to them occurred before they started to roll steadily towards them. A hissing sound swiftly following.

Both girls looked at the canisters and saw that they were spewing out thick plumes of white smoke directed right at them. "What the hell?" Mary Grace asked in confusion before she started to feel her throat burn. Her eyes began to water and her skin felt like it was being rubbed in some kind of hot material. And did the smoke taste, spicy?

Mary Grace began to cough, and so did Kiri as their faces and exposed skin began to burn.

Though neither girl had any experience with the smoky and irritating material, they had seen enough news footage and heard enough about it that they knew what was inside the house with them.

Tear gas.

Unable to think properly and just wanting fresh air, both girls started to make their way towards the outside of the house. Aluminum canisters spread out near the exit was well.

Mary Grace made a sprint to where she had entered the house, with Kiri having to get up before she could follow suit.

Outside, Ethan Gazaway waited outside with his sledgehammer for his intended victim.

With his sledgehammer at the ready, Ethan was ready to strike. With a balaclava, reflective goggles, gloves, and clothes that were thicker than the average street clothes, the tear gas that rolled around his knees didn't affect him very much. Even so, he made sure not to get too close to the hazardous material as he didn't have any kind of respiratory mask with him and he didn't want to catch the worst symptoms either.

He saw someone coming towards the door, which he expected.

There were gunshots coming towards him, which he also expected, but they all missed him by a mile due to them being in a literal blind panic.

What he didn't expect, however, was of someone to rush at him like he was a tackle dummy to a high school football player. It caused Ethan to be caught off guard as he had expected someone to just quickly get out of the house, not sprint at him. Because of that, his intended swing didn't get very far before Mary Grace crashed into him with all her might.

She had expected someone to be waiting outside of the house. Student or enforcer she did not know, but she had been expecting someone, so she ran as quickly as she could, intending to do the maximum amount of damage to them upon exit.

And thus she did. Without even slowing down, Mary Grace smashed into Ethan using a near perfect football tackle that her boyfriend had taught her due to her younger brothers having an obsession with football and would attempt to tackle her to the ground whenever possible.

Both of them fell to the ground with devastating effect as Ethan felt the wind rush out of his lungs and he temporarily forgot how to breathe. Mary Grace on the other hand was still feeling the sting of the homemade tear gas, and though she was blind and in torment, coughing and having tears, snot, and saliva pour from her eyes, nose, and mouth, she pinned Ethan's arms to his chest with one of her knees as she struggled to clear up the symptoms of the gas.

With that said though, it didn't mean that she was out of commission and started to pistol whip Ethan's face with the butt of her handgun. Ethan gave out sharp groans as he moved his head to minimize the damage done to his face. Thankfully, the helmet that he wore protected him from hits to the head. Not that it protected his face as there was only cloth standing between him and one and a half pounds of metal.

Though he was getting hurt, and was pinned as well, Ethan was not out of commission either. He struggled against Mary Grace's weight until both his arms were free from her pressing knee before he grabbed her hips and flung her off of him.

Upon hitting the ground, Mary Grace rolled a couple of times before she sprang up as quickly as she could before tossing the empty pistol away and withdrew a fair distance from her attacker. When she figured she was far enough, she grabbed the duffle bag from her back and ripped it open before grabbing a bottle of water and pouring it over her head, rinsing the irritating chemical off her face and flushing her eyes out as well.

As Mary Grace washed the homemade tear gas off her face, Ethan rubbed his head and adjusted his balaclava, which was now sticky with blood in some places due to being bashed in the head with a pistol. Groaning, Ethan thought of how this was the same girl that had forced him to withdraw from that house earlier in The Program.

 _So we meet again._ Ethan thought as he grabbed his war hammer and ran towards Mary Grace.

Mary Grace, who now had most of the toxins flushed from her body, was able to see the enforcer charging towards her just in time for her to duck and roll under the sledge hammer and run towards her fallen hockey stick.

Ethan, both surprised and impressed by what she had done, muttered out a silent wow before he turned and ran towards her again.

Mary Grace managed to reach the hockey stick at the entrance of the house, grab it, and face the enforcer that had attacked her and Chloe earlier in The Program, and swung at him at the same time he swung at her.

Their two weapons clashed, but the sledgehammer shattered the hockey stick in two as a result.

Mary Grace looked at her now shortened weapon and began to swing wildly at him as she screamed like a wild animal. Ethan, because of his heavier weapon, couldn't go on the offensive, he could only defend himself from the mad blows of an athletic teenage girl.

He defended himself the best he could, blocking with the stick of his hammer for the most part. The stick still managed to get past his defenses and hit his hands, arms, shoulders, and face at times. Eventually, Ethan thought of something better than just defending.

Ethan dropped his hammer and attacked Mary Grace with his gloved hands. He hit her twice in the face before he kicked her in the chest, sending her staggering back. Recovering quickly though, Mary Grace swung the stick at Ethan, only for him to catch the stick under his armpit and take the blow to the ribs. It hurt like hell, but Ethan took advantage of the situation by hooking his right foot under Mary Grace's left shin and shoving her forwards, causing her to lose her balance as Ethan twisted his body to the left, causing Mary Grace to loosen her grip on her weapon until she let go of it completely and crash to the ground.

The enforcer then slammed the stick on top of Mary Grace's head, causing ripples of pain to course through her head, before he placed his combat boot on top of her throat, cutting off her air supply.

The athlete, feeling her wind pipe being crushed and being suffocated, grabbed the enforcer's ankle and tried to push it off. She flailed her body as her feet kicked the ground, trying desperately to get out, but to no avail as Ethan just applied more pressure to her throat.

Mary Grace let out horrible, chocking gasps as she found it getting tougher and tougher to breathe. Her face started to turn a dark red as she saw her vision get hazy with black clouds. She started to hear a distorted whooshing sound in her ears as she felt her strength start to sap. That sound was not unlike what she heard when she had her head under the water. But unlike the times in the pool, it wasn't the pleasant sound that she had associated it with.

Suffocation was not quick, and it wasn't painless. Not like the movies where you choke someone and they seemingly fall asleep. In reality, it was brutal, agonizing, scary, and certainly not quick either. Mary Grace could see herself struggling for life in the enforcer's reflective goggles.

And just when she thought that she was going to pass out and die, there was the sound of a loud, dry pop before she felt the elephant on her neck get off and sweet sweet air passed through her throat. She clutched her neck and gave out raspy coughs, feeling as if it was still sort of concaved as she took deep breaths, feeling sweet relief as everything started to clear up.

Mary Grace looked to her attacker, and saw that he was clutching his chest as he fell to a single knee. Through the tactical vest and the uniform he wore, Mary Grace saw a dark liquid start to stain them as it leaked through a gaping hole. She didn't have to see the colour red to know that it was blood. The enforcer started to cough, and as they coughed, she noticed that it was staining the balaclava they wore with an off black colour.

Beyond that, was a short girl holding a heavy revolver in both her hands, just barely standing thanks to the kick of the gun.

By all means, Kiri shouldn't have been able to do what she had done. She was quite a ways away from the enforcer and the blond girl. Not only that, but the only time she even held a gun was during her time in The Program. Looking down the sights and with careful aiming, she had gotten lucky, and that's all it was. Luck.

Kiri looked at what she had done, and felt guilty as tears welled up in her eyes. And it wasn't just because the gas was still somewhat affecting her, even with the amount of time she had her eyes, nose, and mouth, flush the toxins out and the air help clear the symptoms with time. It was because she had shot another person once again. Was probably going to be responsible for another death. _This is the opposite of what I wanted_. Kiri thought.

Just then, another pop occurred, and the blond haired girl fell to the ground, screaming as she clutched her chest as well. Kiri was confused as she hadn't fired her gun at her, but then she saw someone in camouflage run past her holding a pistol of their own.

 _Another enforcer._ Kiri thought. _But why are they running past me?_ But then it hit her. The gunshot hitting the girl in front of her and not her. Them running past her and not killing her. _No._ Kiri thought. _No! That's not right!_

Kiri pointed the Colt Anaconda at the new enforcer and cocked the hammer, but was tackled by another person from behind, causing her to fire the bullet a mile off.

Kiri felt her face scrape against the ground, causing her to taste dirt, as she struggled, but the person on her grabbed her head and pressed it against the earth with great pressure.

 _This wasn't the way it was supposed to go!_ Kiri thought as she struggled against the weight of enforcer on top of her.

Meanwhile, Mary Grace was feeling the burning lance in her chest as she got up and ran from her location. She had no gun and the person in camouflage did. She didn't like her odds, and tried to run.

Unfortunately for her, Brody was a good shooter, and fired the pistol he had gotten from Tia at Mary Grace, tearing a hole through her back before it traveled out of her stomach, causing her to fall to her knees and scream again.

 _I'm so close._ She thought as she clutched her new wound as well as the one to her chest. She got to a crouching position and started to run in that position. She got shot in the side for her troubles. _Everyone, I'm so close to seeing you again._

Memories of better times flashed through her mind. She thought of the swim team that she loved so much. The blissful yet ecstatic feeling she got when she was in the water. The fun times she had when she was with her friends. And there were the times she had with her family. Sure there were times that she couldn't stand them, especially her annoying younger brothers, but she realized just how much she was going to miss them when the concept of never seeing them again hit her like a freight train.

Kiri managed to get her head up enough to see the camouflaged enforcer shoot the blond haired girl a couple more times as she tried to escape. Kiri saw that the enforcer was rapidly approaching the girl and struggled with all her might against the much heavier person on top of her.

The person on top of her did their best to hold her down, but Kiri managed to roll over onto her back. The enforcer didn't like that, and pressed her left hand painfully into Kiri's face, like she was trying to sink her head into the ground, before she started to punch her repeatedly in the face.

Raelyn wanted Kiri to stay down and not get free, so she pounded her face with her fist. Raelyn wasn't going for a kill, but she punches were strong enough to split open Kiri's lips and send waves of agony through her face.

Kiri, however, was determined to not let someone else die because of her. She wiggled her head like crazy, trying to get free from the enforcer's grasp, and as Raelyn's hand began to move, Kiri made her move.

When the enforcer's hand managed to slip into her mouth, she bit down on Raelyn's hand hard enough to draw blood. Raelyn screamed in agony as she instinctively pulled away. With less weight on her, Kiri managed to get a foot free and kicked the enforcer in the face with all her might three times. The first one caused Kiri's heel to hit Raelyn right in the left eye, the second one hit her in the mouth, the third one sent Raelyn's trapper hat flying off her head and knocking her to the ground.

Kiri, seeing a much taller enforcer with a bloody neck warmer running towards her, quickly leapt into action and grabbed the Colt Anaconda and cocked the hammer. She saw that the shorter enforcer going after the other girl was lining up for a perfect shot, and was not that far from her either as he menacingly strolled closer.

 _Daria. Kiara. It's not your fault. You're not failures. It's just what I want. I'm sorry. I'll miss you both. I love you._

"HEY!" She yelled at loudly as she could. "KILL HER AND YOU'LL HAVE NO WINNER!"

With that statement declared, it was enough to stop Brody in his tracks and look at Kiri, though his handgun was still pointed at Mary Grace.

All four enforcers looked at Kiri, and all of them felt the same emotion as she put the revolver under her chin. Fear.

To them, both Mary Grace and Kiri were suitable winners. But they and the government felt that Kiri would be much better for the country than Mary Grace. So when they saw Kiri about to shoot herself, they panicked.

Brody didn't know whether to shot or not, as he could kill Mary Grace, but Kiri could also blow her brains out at the same time. And while he was a good shot, there was no kidding himself into thinking that he was good enough to shot a gun out of someone's hands.

Raelyn and Tia couldn't get to Kiri fast enough as Raelyn was still recovering from getting kicked in the face and Tia out of stamina due to her inability to breath through her nose.

Ethan was too injured to do anything, as even though he could stand, his lungs seemed to be collapsing amongst themselves, making it difficult for him to even breathe.

"Somebody stop her for the love of god!" Brody shouted futility.

All four of them hoped that she wouldn't pull the trigger, as it was the only thing they could do.

She did.


	22. Homecoming

Having always been an outcast her entire life since she had been taken in by her mothers, Kiri Francis, the sixth winner of the yearly Y.R.A program, didn't feel all that much different when she arrived back at school to be meet with hostility and further alienation at Sunny Coast High School.

With the facts that she had killed one kid, and assisted in the murder of several others, were enough for her to understand why they wanted her even further away from them.

Having killed Chloe herself was the one that hurt the second most, with having helped with the murders of Marcos, Rachel, Chris, and enforcer Keith, came a close third. The one about helping kill Marcos was a big issue for her at school since he had been a student at her school. And though she hadn't known it was him at the time due to the mask covering his face, it didn't stop his friends from harassing her. She didn't blame them as she felt as if she had killed him herself and the only reason he was trying to kill her and the others was because he wanted to return home as well.

And then there were Izzy's friends as well. They harassed her at school as well, demanding to know why a suicidal loser like her deserved to win. It was an answer that Kiri couldn't answer, and one that she had been wondering herself. After all, she wasn't anything special. Just some kid who had gotten adopted at three and managed to escape the slums of Tokyo because of it.

But the one death that got to her the most was the one that she had tried to prevent, and failed to achieve that in the end. She thought that she'd be sacrificing herself so that someone else could live. She failed at that as well.

Putting the Colt Anaconda under her chin and pulling the trigger only resulted in a click from the weapon. It turned out that that bullet inside was a dud and wouldn't work. It was then that she had been tackled by Raelyn before having the weapon ripped from her grip. With the enforcer's entire body painfully holding her down, Kiri was powerless to stop Brody from blowing a hole in Mary Grace's temple and spraying her brains onto the earth. That, to her, hit her the hardest.

The therapist she was seeing tried to get her to see that she wasn't a bad person for getting people to die, and that the guilt that she was feeling for their deaths wasn't her fault. She tried to make her feel better, but it didn't seem to be doing much other than getting her to re-live her time in The Program.

And though she was very extroverted, she just didn't want to talk about her experiences in The Program. Having to remember all the times she failed. She got enough of that in her nightmares, when she would see the deaths of those she had associated with within that war zone and re-experience that terror and sadness in all it's horror only to wake up with the bed sheets soaked with sweat. When her schoolmates had to remind her about her actions. When she looked at her mothers when she was at home...

She had asked the therapist why she had so easily tried to kill Marcos and how she was able to shoot Ethan and Chloe as easily as she had. Her therapist had then explained that, in the case of Marcos and Ethan, it was because of their masks. Because of their masks, you took away their faces, making them unrecognizable. You don't see their emotions, you can't identify with them, and above all, it makes it easier to not care about them as easily since on a subconscious level, you suppress their recognition as a human. As for Chloe, it was because she hadn't seen her and was just reacting with primeval survival instinct.

Kiri wondered if that's why the enforcers wore masks as well. Because not only would it hard to identify them, but they also feel dehumanized and feel more capable to do the deeds they were placed in The Program for.

She tried to see the good in everyone, but she had to wonder what kind of people would willingly volunteer to go through hell like that. Why they'd so willingly go in and slaughter kids the same age as them or younger.

And while she could see how some people would be less sympathetic, like the feminine hater Hewil Dye, she had to wonder how they could kill some of the others.

She wanted to ask the enforcers of her program. After she had gotten knocked out within the grounds of The Program and awoke in a hospital, she had asked if the enforcers of her program were in there as well. But of course they weren't, which honestly didn't surprise her. After all, why would the enforcers be in the same hospital with someone they had terrorized?

She had been told that Ethan, the enforcer she had shot, had been rushed for surgery, and lived. Kiri was glad for that, even if Ethan had killed another student and tried to kill Mary Grace. Even so, she didn't want another death on her conscience.

She asked about the other enforcers, and was told that Tia would need new teeth and would need a nose correction, while Raelyn nearly got a cheekbone broken thanks to her.

The government official that she talked to had honestly been surprised that she had asked about the enforcers, but Kiri felt as if they were just victims of The Program as well. After all, two of them had died inside it, and they weren't the first ones to do so either. And she figured that if they didn't go in, someone else would.

On the ride home, Kiri had been worried about her return to Minnesota and the things that were to come. But out of everything that she was dreading upon her homecoming to Minnesota, it was having to face her mothers. She had wondered how they'd react after everything that she had done. She wondered if they'd be mad at her. If they'd loathe her. Disown her. If they'd be so upset and sad with her that they'd just fall to the floor and die.

On the drive up to the house in the police car, Kiri had broke down in tears, wondering if she could face her mothers and if they had seen her suicide attempt. Because, why wouldn't they? The parents of those that were taken to participate in The Program were always informed of their kids being taken away.

How did they react when they had been told the news?

Did Kiara intensely argue with the messenger, demanding that she return as Daria tried to calm her down? Or did they just take it in shock and silence? Kiri hoped that it was the latter, as those that tried to fight back would often be beaten into submission, and she did not want either of her mothers to suffer because of something out of their control.

And what of watching The Program? They had never wanted to watch the live death battles before, and didn't want her to watch them either. But after knowing that their daughter was in The Program, did they pay to watch? Did they go to a friend's house and watch there? Or did they try the internet? Maybe they just waited it out, hoping beyond hoping for some kind of miracle to happen.

Whatever the case, Kiri was dreading the upcoming meeting, and wished that Mary Grace had survived instead of her. After all, Kiri had wanted to die since before entering The Program. She saw The Program as something that could give her her wish, and not make her mothers feel like failures as mothers, making them think that at least it wasn't their fault and that they couldn't stop her death from happening.

Instead, Kiri had survived, and became an unwilling destroyer of lives.

How ironic that someone who wanted to die and save lives, ended up being alive and ruined lives in the process.

Being escorted to her house by police gave her little comfort. She was still crying, still felt stiff and an unpleasant buzz was coursing through her body as her heart rate soared and hammered against her chest. Her throat had become a desert and she was pretty sure her lungs were being constricted as her legs shook like crazy. And the driveway seemed to be the longest driveway in the world, giving her plenty of time to contemplate the outcomes.

The casually uniformed police officers that escorted her to her house had been kind to her, smiling and telling her that everyone was going to be alright as they patted her shoulder. They were a lot different than the police officers that had taken her from the principal's office, who had radiated malevolence, wore intimidating riot gear, and looked ready to pummel her to a bloody pulp at a moment's notice.

When she finally got to the front door, she didn't have any preparation time before the door got flung open and her mothers burst from the door frame to embrace her in a tight group hug that consisted of crying and saying how worried they were and how glad that she was back.

The police officers knew that their job was done and left, leaving Kiri feeling unprotected from what was to come. Because as soon as they were inside and her mothers were done telling her how worried they were the entire time, they asked her why she had tried to kill herself. Why had she done it when she was going to win if she hadn't done anything?

Kiri told them that she didn't want anyone else to die because of her.

"And what about us?" That was what Kiara had asked her, and it was that question that kept Kiri up all night that night. What about us?

As she laid in her bed, Kiri thought of how her suicide attempt had hurt her mothers deeply. They had been worried sick about her, thinking that any moment could have been her last and how they regretted the many things they had or had not done. The things they hadn't said and the wrong things they had said. All the good times that were probably never to come and how their daughter's life was going to be cut short. How they'd have to go through the pain of outliving their daughter. How they'd never tell her how much they loved her despite not being a biological family, because even though they didn't share blood, they thought of her as their real daughter.

But because of that attempt she took on her own life, they thought they weren't worth coming back to. They thought that they weren't good parents. And though they would have felt dead on the inside of she had died, Kiri found that they had still died inside when her suicide attempt had failed.

So she learned that not only did she hurt people within The Program, but she had hurt the two most important people to her outside of The Program. And though Kiri knew that what they were thinking wasn't true, she didn't think that anything she could say could repair the damage.

Immense guilt built up inside of her. And though the physical agony she had felt when getting hit by Raelyn had faded and left no permanent injuries on her, Kiri felt one hundred times worse on the inside and it only seemed to build up through the days. Heart broken. That's what she was, and it hurt more than anything Raelyn had, or could have, done to her.

She found herself unable to concentrate in school and her grades began to slip. At times she just placed her head on her desk and only pay attention to the lesson in front of her. Her moods became more and more down in the dumps as she thought of the results of her actions and the guilt she felt. And she began to interest in the things she once loved, not finding the joy, and sometimes not even the point, in them.

Though she kept to her routine schedule, she wasn't like before. Homework became tough to the point of giving up, food became less important to her, her rest cycle was disrupted with sleepless nights and nightmares, and her dancing became more like a chore than a fun hobby. And even with the support of her best friend and dancing couch, Janella "Ella" Khan, a nineteen year old girl that she could talk to with anything, couldn't seem to help her.

She had survived something she didn't want to survive, and though she got money and therapy sessions for her troubles, Kiri didn't think that it was worth it. The money couldn't buy her out of her depression, and she didn't actively participate in her therapy sessions despite her mothers attending them as well. She didn't think they were helping, so she just stopped trying, thinking that things were never going to get better.

She wasn't back home, where she had been before she had been taken away to participate in The Program. Instead, she felt like she was back in a place that looked like her home, but wasn't her home.

With devastated parents, schoolmates that had yet another reason to hate her, depressed and guilty feelings that wouldn't go away, the memories of horror and failure, and a seamlessly hopeless future, Kiri wished that she had died in The Program.

 **A/N: When I first got all the characters, Mary Grace was honestly my choice of victor for the majority of the fic, but then I started to lean towards Kiri being a victor. Even so, it was pretty damn close who to choose. So what I'm going to do is that once the main story is over, I'll be doing an AU chapter or two of Mary Grace winning.**

 **The next chapter will be the final chapter of the main story... Maybe.**


	23. Reconstruction

Having gotten off her flight from Minnesota to Rhode Island and just gotten her luggage from the airport carousel, Kiri took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself as she walked towards the exit.

Thinking back to when she was still at home, a government official had stopped by her house to inform her and her family that she was going to be taking a trip to Rhode Island to meet with the other program winners for the duration of two days and two nights before returning home. The flights had been paid for, the government even being generous enough to give her first class seats, but whatever other expenses she wished to have on her trip were going to be on her own dollar.

She wouldn't have to worry about shelter cost as she was going to be staying with the winner of The Fifth Annual Program, Genevieve Copeland, at her house, along with the other three winners.

Kiri had asked them about her school work, and they told her that she could catch up on it when she got back and that her school had been informed of her absence. Kiri didn't know whether she really wanted to go or not, but the government official had told her that refusing to go wasn't an option and that she should pack whatever she needed so that she wouldn't be in a rush when the time came.

Though it interfered with her schedule, she packed up what she thought she'd need for the stay. Her mothers requested that she pack something a little more formal than just her normal sweatshirts and leggings. Told her that she had to look good for the others as they didn't want her to seem like a disrespectful slob. So she did pack something a little more formal, and as she walked out of the airport building, she had to wonder what the other victors were like.

Having taken the time to look at the programs they participated in, she didn't know if she'd get along with them very well, but she would most certainly try.

Going towards the parking lot, where she was told the others, minus Genevieve, would be meeting her. She expected four people to greet her. Instead, in the cool autumn night, she found only a single person, sitting by the curb, lazily holding out a cardboard sign with her name scribbled in black.

"Finally, you're here." Kendra Edwards, the winner of The Third Annual Program, said with a hard sigh of relief as she stood up and tossed the cardboard sign into the back of a rental red pickup truck. "Honestly, how did it take so god damn long for your flight to get here?"

Kiri looked at the girl and immediately noticed how short she was. Kiri, being only five foot six herself, saw that Kendra was nearly three inches shorter than her. Not only that, but she saw how Kendra was dressed up as well. With blue denim overalls over a black t-shirt, Kiri felt out of place with her stylish, knee length black dress. Kendra also sported a black baseball cap that she wore backwards over her wavy black hair.

And then there was her face. She had intense, light blue eyes and several scars lining her face. However, it wasn't enough to take away Kiri focusing on Kendra's big nose that looked like a part of it had been bitten off. "Your mother ever tell you it's rude to stare?" Kendra asked with some hostility in her voice, which made Kiri come back to reality and look away. "I know I've got a big ugly fucking nose that looks like a sewer rat chewed on it like a hunk of cheese or something."

"Sorry." Kiri apologized meekly. "Didn't know I was staring."

"Yeah, it makes people do that at times." Kendra replied coolly, like it had happened many times before, before she opened the front door to the truck. "Now get in, everyone else is waiting."

"Weren't they all supposed to meet me here?" Kiri asked as she climbed into the front passenger seat.

"They all got bored and took a taxi to Genevieve's, leaving me behind to wait for you." Kendra explained as she turned the truck on and began to speed off so quickly that the engine roared and the tires squealed upon take off, much to Kiri's surprise. "Doesn't actually surprise me as my ass was going numb waiting for your slow ass flight to arrive."

As soon as they were outside of the airport, Kendra, still going faster than Kiri was comfortable with, pulled out a blue pack of Winston cigarettes from her overalls along with a dinged up zippo lighter, which had a picture of a blond haired Harley Quinn in a highly sexual pose.

Kendra placed a white cylinder in her mouth before torching the end with her zippo before throwing the lighter and the cigarette pack on the dash. Kendra then reached around the back and grabbed a can of Keystone beer before she popped it open with one hand.

Kiri, who had been nervous at that point, only got more nervous as Kendra took a swig of the beer. Looking at the cup holder and seeing another open can that was used as an ashtray, Kiri feared that Kendra wasn't drinking her first beer of the day.

"Are you fit to drive?" Kiri asked, fearing that a car crash was on the way.

"Absolutely." Kendra assured her calmly as she took a drag of her cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. "Why do you ask?"

"Well it's just that-" Kiri started, but stopped in favor of letting out a scream as Kendra suddenly accelerated to run a yellow light that was about to turn red.

"Ahhh," Kendra sighed joyfully as they hit a main road and the truck proceeded to speed up even more. "Made it. No speed bumps to slow us down either."

The rest of the drive had Kiri silent with fear as she became more and more sure that an impending car accident was about to happen with Kendra's reckless driving as she continued to drink and smoke. Kendra blasted through four ways, weaved in and out of traffic to get ahead, drove sharply around corners, and other things that made Kiri wonder how the girl managed to pass her driver's test. And when Kendra tried to get someone to race her, Kiri was begging Kendra not to go through with it. Fortunately for her, the other driver wasn't interested in drag racing Kendra and got away from her at the earliest possible moment.

Kiri was frightened and hoped that a police officer would see Kendra's driving, or that someone would call the cops and save her before it was too late. Her hands gripped the arm rests tightly and her heart raced as she felt like crying. Kendra on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself, often hollering out with joy and laughing blissfully with a smile on her face.

By the time they arrived at Genevieve's house, Kiri was never more glad to get out of a vehicle. "Help me with some of the groceries will you." Kendra said to Kiri, like she hadn't just been driving erratically, as she stepped out of the truck and started to grab things out of the back. Kiri went to help her and discovered that Kendra had a case of Keystone and Miller Genuine Draft beer as well as potato chips and cheezies in the back seats of the truck.

"Anything that I should know before I go in?" Kiri asked, finally feeling brave enough to say something other than 'please slow down' or 'be careful'. Though she was still shaking from her short experience with Kendra.

"Yeah," Kendra answered as she picked up the two cases of beer by herself. "You know about our games, you've watched them online or heard what happened to us from word of mouth or some shit, so don't start asking us a million questions about what we had to go through unless it seems like a good time to do so. And while I don't know much about Jerry, I can tell you about Nelson and Genevieve a little. For Genevieve, apparently mentioning her friend, Andala something or other, isn't a good idea. As for Nelson, I can tell you right now that you shouldn't even ask him about the D.C riots or ask about his face as he's sensitive about both of those things."

"The what riots?" Kiri asked in confusion, as she had never heard of such a thing. Kendra looked at her like she was stupid for a couple of seconds before she formed a more understanding look.

"Oh yeah, people of your age probably won't know about it. Okay, sit down, short history lesson here." Kendra then sat down on the case of Keystone beer and mentioned for Kiri to take a seat next to her. Kiri did as Kendra started to talk once again. "Just after the Y.R.A came in effect, the government was on the fence about whether they wanted to activate the fucking death battles or not, because even though it was part of the Y.R.A, there were some that thought that restricting our rights even more than they already were was good enough. Nelson, along with some of his school, along with students from other schools from across the country, went to D.C to show how pissed off they were when they allowed the death battles to take place. From what I know, chaos ensued. Anarchy happened. People died, shops were looted and destroyed, the military was called in. Shit hit the fucking fan very fucking hard and sprayed a million ways to Sunday."

Kendra gave a deep sigh before she continued. "During the riot, Nelson lost his two best friends and had to watch atrocities happen in front of him. And if that weren't enough, he was then caught by the army and went to fight in The First Annual Program. You saw what happened in his program, I know you do, so it comes to the surprise of nobody that his is considered the most violent program to date. And what happened to his face... He now wears a balaclava and sunglasses because he now looks like some piss ass ugly villain out of a fucking slasher flick."

Kendra's hands were rubbing each other back and forth as she talked through the next part. "I had a long distance relationship with Nelson's younger brother before Nelson became famous. Meet on World of Warcraft of all the damn places. So no, I wasn't part of the riots and I don't know what Nelson saw. Nelson's only told his family and his therapist about what happened, and his brother only told me what I've told you now."

The older girl let out yet another sigh as she shook her head a little before standing back up again. "Come on, lets go inside and meet the others before I start crying like a pussy ass little bitch. Last thing you need to know, don't make Nelson mad. You really won't like him when he's mad."

As Kendra picked up the beer, Kiri got the snacks and thought of what Kendra had said. It made Kiri wonder what Nelson had been through. Most of all, she wondered what the other winners were like since Kendra seemed to have a kind of sugar and ice kind of personality as far as she could see. For Kendra seemed to care, but was also foul mouthed and reckless. She wondered if Kendra did those things because of her size and felt that she needed to compensate for things, or if she was always just like that.

Hoping for the best, Kiri followed Kendra into the cozy sized house and was greeted with the sight of three other young adults inside the living room, clustered around a wooden table.

Sitting on a couch large enough for three people was a tall figure that wore a dressy black suit and tie with a white dress shirt underneath and sporting wraparound sunglasses and a black balaclava with a small mouth hole. Twenty three year old Nelson Bowers.

On the other side of the couch was a faux-hawked, blond haired, fairly strong looking man that carried scars on his arms and horn rimmed glasses over his nose. He wore a casual t-shirt with a picture of a boar surfing like a human and clean jeans. Twenty one year old Jerry James.

On a simple wooden chair on the other side of the table was an Italian looking girl with tanned skin, dark hair, and a ratty navy blue and white trucker's cap covering the right side of her face. Nineteen year old Genevieve Copeland.

Kiri and Kendra were noticed the second they stepped into the room. The conversation Nelson and Jerry were having came to a pause as the welcomed the girls.

"Looks like the second guest of honor has arrived at fucking last." Nelson happily announced.

"Yeah, thanks for ditching me and leaving me to babysit dick wads." Kendra replied as she placed the drinks on the table. "I waited outside of the airport for, like, ever so that you two could eat one another's assholes. Also, I swear that the kid nearly pissed her pants the way here."

"With your driving, it's not really a surprise." Nelson retorted as he pushed a gallon sized jug of water to the side so that Kiri could place the snacks near him as Kendra flopped down between the two men. "And if I'm completely honest with you, I'm thinking the decision to leave you behind was a mistake because we thought girl time was a good idea at that moment."

"What a mistake we made." Jerry calmly replied as Kendra handed out cans of beers to everyone before tossing one to Kiri, who just barely managed to catch it as she sat down in an open chair between Nelson and Genevieve.

"Yeah, well, enough about that." Kendra said as she cracked open her beer can, almost immediately by the others. "We're here now, alive. So as the first official program victor visiting... Project... Thing. Cheers."

Cheers were said, though Genevieve did hers halfheartedly before everyone but Kiri took a deep swig of their beers.

"You going to drink that?" Nelson asked Kiri, noticing that she hadn't drank any of her beverage. In fact, she hadn't even opened it.

"I don't drink." Kiri explained, not wanting to start now of all times.

"Alright." Nelson said with an understanding tone as he, Jerry, and Kendra lit up cigarettes.

The three older winners then began to talk among each other like they were old friends catching up with each other. They discussed their choices of cigarette and beer brands. They talked about what they had done recently, Kendra had asked how Nelson's brother was doing, and they just talked about general things altogether. Kiri even jumped in a few times when she thought she could, and soon, she felt comfortable with talking to them.

Though Kiri was feeling comfortable talking with the older kids, she noticed that Genevieve was quiet and just generally looked miserable. Kiri tried to involve Genevieve a few times, but Genevieve seemed to make getting out of the conversation as quickly as possible a habit.

The three older victors seemed to just take it in stride, but Kiri kept on trying to get Genevieve to open up, but kept on failing. It was like Genevieve didn't even care, and didn't want to get involved. Still, Kiri kept on looking for an opening.

It wasn't until the three older winners started to talk about doing some karaoke within the town that Genevieve seemed to finally have something to say.

"So what are you all here for anyway?" She snapped out angrily. "Because I was told by the government that you all would be coming down here for a meet and great or some shit. And right now, all I can see is people coming to my house and shooting the shit all day and using my home as someplace to sleep off your alcohol induced black out nights as you go around Cranston and sing? Sing of all things? So what am I? A fucking house maid and youth hostel?"

"You want to know why we're here?" Kendra asked with hostility, practically jumping off the couch to look at the still sitting down Genevieve. "You want to know why we're fucking here? It's because of you." Kendra said, jabbing her finger at Genevieve. "And you." Kendra pointed to Kiri. "And Clifford fucking Rose."

"The government wants the two of you," Jerry jumped in, though he was much more calm than Kendra, looking at Genevieve and Kiri. "To start actually doing something instead of just sitting in the dumps and feeling sorry for yourselves. I mean, honestly, if I may be blunt, the government choose you, Kiri, as a victor, for a reason."

"What?" Kiri asked in pure bewilderment. "You mean-"

"Yeah." Jerry said. "Did you ever think it strange that the enforcers didn't just kill you instead of pinning you down? Even though they were closer to you than to Mary Grace?" Kiri had given it thought, but she hadn't thought too deeply into it, or given it much thought as she thought it was a curse to be alive. "It's because of the activities you had done pre-program. The three of us looked at the government's notes on you two."

As if they were thinking the same thought. Nelson, Jerry, and Kendra, all pulled out their phones and started to scroll through them. "Kiri Francis. Sixteen years old. Goes to Sunny Coast High School. Straight A student with a bright future. Supports pro-Choice, LGBTQ+, anti-Y.R.A, women's rights, human rights, and others. Makes petitions for people to sign and making people aware of current situations, and though it doesn't always work out, she still tries to make a difference for the people in America." Jerry looked up from his phone and looked at Kiri. "You haven't tried to make a difference since you've won your program. What happened to you? Did you stop caring about the rights of your fellow humans?"

Before Kiri could answer, Kendra started to speak.

"Genevieve Copeland. Nineteen years old. Previously a student at Storm Coast Secondary School. Though she was an unexpected victor, we still believe that she can make a difference in America and contribute to the lowering of youth crime, aiding the economic stability, or finding an alternate way of terminating the need for the Y.R.A."

"Kendra helps pregnant teenagers in need, tries to get child and teen whores off the streets, and helps the Detroit police department by softening their slashed budget by donating the profits she makes." Nelson told them. "Jerry hosts a radio talk show for those in need, including private lines for those in distress such as those thinking about suicide, or are the victims of rape, gang violence, or have just discovered the dead bodies of loved ones. He also goes to schools in an attempt of getting them to avoid joining the gangs, doing the crimes they could commit, and using the services that fuel the fucking gang bangers."

"And Nelson does a lot of things as well." Jerry spoke up. "Much like me, he helps families deal with the grief of losing loved ones. Also helps people with P.T.S.D. Helps his local police department much like Kendra does. Does his best to stop violent riots from happening, as well as supporting small time local stores and trying to increase the youth employment rate."

"And there are other things that we do as well." Kendra said to them. "So while you two bitches sit around and do the poor poor me act, you could be out there actually trying to make a damn difference. Kiri, what the fuck happened to petitioning for the anti-Y.R.A? What happened to your drive for a better god damn future? Got your head so far up your asshole that all you can see is the shit in the world? Yeah, you got covered in shit during your time in The Program and saw some shitty things. Get your head to where the sun shines once again, shower up, and fight for a better future."

Kendra then turned to Genevieve. "And you. Oh, oh, I'm so ugly I'm going to hide my face from everyone. I killed people. I lost my best friend. I'm just going to sit on my sad lazy fat ass day in and day out while out there," Kendra then pointed towards a window. "Someone else is suffering a facial injury. Someone else is killing someone else. Someone else is losing their best friend. Why? Because you're selfish and can't see past your own misery that you're blind to the suffering of others. Unfuck yourself and try to make others not suffer like you are."

"The government sees potential in the two of you. But because of the actions of the two of you and the suicide of Clifford Rose, the government is worried. And honestly, the three of us don't know you two from butt fuck nowhere, but they made this group meeting thing as a way for each of us to help each other so that you can get out of your stupor and have someone to talk to who understands."

"Since we're being like this, I'll just say this bluntly." Nelson said. "Go to your therapists and try to make an effort on recovering and maintaining your sanity. Go back to trying to enjoy the things you love, and look at whats important to you and ask what you want their future to be like? Do you want your families to see you two as a couple of jobless hippies that do nothing but sit around and talk shit as they smoke their grass and complain about how the world is unfair all day every day? Do you want to see another thirty years of The Program being broadcast across America, Canada, and Europe? Or in ten years, do you want to say to yourself 'I stopped a second great depression from happening and stopped a real life Hunger Games from happening'? Violent riots are still taking place from time to time across the country because of the Y.R.A, and people have no idea how much direct and collateral damage it does."

The room seemed to go eerily silent after the large chew out, and Kiri seemed to be at a loss of words. Genevieve too.

After an uncomfortable amount of time, Kendra spoke up once again.

"Look at the time. I don't know about all of you, but I don't want to hang around a piss poor atmosphere like this when I don't have to. Going out for a night of fun because we need to have a good time once in a while and I won't be seeing these two fine gentlemen for a while. The two of you are more than welcome to join us at the karaoke bar. They will let the both of you in even if you are under age. Government benefits. And either both of you will come, or neither of you will come."

Nelson, Jerry, and Kendra stuffed in as many beers as they could into their clothes without appearing suspicious, wondering if they could even get away with being so cheap. As they walked past them, Kiri noticed the red writing on Nelson's black zippo lighter as he lit up another cigarette. The text on his zippo read: Remember This; You are free to choose, but be ready to face the consequences of your choice.

Kendra and Nelson walked out of the room, but Jerry stayed to talk to the two younger girls for a bit.

"I know that we're rough," He said in a calm and comforting voice. "Kendra and Nelson especially. But we just want what's best for you. We may not know exactly what's going on with each other, but we know enough, or so I'd like to think. We've all had similar experiences with your lives during and after The Program. Kendra, Nelson, and I, we all suffer from P.T.S.D and survivor's guilt. I can tell you that it'll never fully go away, but we manage. Even so, our time in The Program changed us for better and worse." Kendra could be heard yelling for Jerry from the outside of the house, and Jerry looked ready to leave the house. "Come with us. Have a good time. Let us help you." And with that, Jerry left the house. Not much time passed before the sound of a truck could be heard starting up before it erratically started to speed out of the drive way, burning rubber, before it peeled away just as crazily. There was no doubt in Kiri's mind that Kendra was driving. In her mind, all three of them were crazy if they were putting their lives in Kendra's hands.

It was then that Kiri heard the sound of someone sobbing. Kiri looked towards Genevieve and was unsurprising that she was the one crying. And in all honesty, Kiri felt like crying as well. What the three of them said really hit her hard. Before she entered The Program, she had been doing things that she loved and fighting for a better future. But since she won, she was so overcome with guilt that she couldn't see anything beyond her own suffering.

The thoughts of my fault my fault repeated in her head like a broken record. All she saw was the sorrow she and her mothers were having, and how it was all her fault. She didn't think of anyone else during all that time and she lost her interest in things that were once important to her. She just stopped trying, and instead, tried to look for the perfect opportunity to commit suicide to escape the crushing feelings she was experiencing.

The two of them just cried to themselves for what seemed like an hour, but in reality, it was only about twenty minutes or so, before Genevieve broke the silence.

"I'm sorry." She sobbed with her elbows on the table and her fists to the sides of her head. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." Kiri sobbed as well.

"I- Andula... She'd be so disappointed in me. Seeing me live like this."

It was then that Kiri heard just how rough her voice was. Like she used it a little as possible for the past year and a half or so. And looking at the house, it was a mess. Dust was on nearly everything, a couple of dirty dishes were on the table, the floor looked like it could use a good vacuum, and there was an overflowing trashcan. And that was just the living room alone.

Kiri thought of Genevieve and her lifestyle of living alone. Her personality. Genevieve simply didn't care about anything and had no one. Kiri wondered if this is what she'd be like if she didn't have her mothers to push her to get her school work done. If they didn't push her to go to dance class and Janella wasn't there to talk with Kiri. If they didn't push Kiri to take care of herself.

An outcast.

That's what Genevieve was as well. An outcast like her. But unlike Kiri, Genevieve had no one.

"Do you have... Family?" Kiri asked.

"Yeah." Genevieve answered.

"Move back in with them. I bet they're worried about you."

"No. I moved for a reason."

"And that reason is?" Kiri asked curiously.

"To protect them from me." Genevieve told her. "Harassing phone calls and drive byes for all to hear. I don't want them to suffer with me."

"So you'll suffer alone?" Kiri asked. "And live like this? This... This isn't living. I hate to say it, but despite their sharp tongues, the three of them are right. We... We need to start doing something. Start getting our lives back in order. Because I don't know about you, but depression fucking sucks. I... Don't want to feel like this forever."

"What should we do?"

"Recover? Live? I don't know. But right now, there are three others that know more than we do, and we were all gathered here for a reason. Us of the new generation taking advice from the older generation so that we can further ourselves."

"Can we even recover?"

"If what Jerry said is true, we will never be the same again. But we can manage it. Hopefully."

"I don't know if I'm worth the effort." Genevieve sighed before Kiri took the trucker's cap off her head. Genevieve, feeling exposed and embarrassed by her facial deformity, was in shock for a couple of seconds before she tried to grab the hat back, but Kiri backed away before she started to speak again.

"Genevieve, you are a beautiful looking girl who had a best friend risk her life to save you from an enforcer when you were supposed to be all but dead. She... She thought you were worth saving. And... And maybe she didn't want to die, but she didn't want you to die either. So maybe she was happy to let you live and for her to take your place. But she wouldn't want to see you like this. She didn't save you so that you could throw everything away." It was then that Kiri started to think of her mothers again, and how much pain she caused them and what they had done to make sure she made it this far in her life. They willingly saved her from the Tokyo slums and faced the consequences of raising a girl like her. A choice they freely made and were ready to face the consequences of teen drama and restless nights of a baby crying. They wouldn't be alone for a long time and would get the ups and downs of raising a kid. And even through everything Kiri had made them go through for the past six months since surviving The Sixth Annual Program, they willingly faced the consequences of their choices.

But Kiri, hadn't been ready to face the consequences of her choice to try suicide. Hadn't been ready with her choice to stay with people with the risk of losing them. "You are free to choose, but be ready to face the consequences of your choice. Your friend freely choose to save you and was ready to face the consequences of saving your life. You made your choice, are you ready to face the consequences? Because I'm ready to finally face mine."

Genevieve looked at Kiri for a few moments, her only functional eye still leaking out water, before she quietly answered.

"Yeah. Yeah." She then stood up and held out her hand. "My hat. Because... One thing at a time."

Kiri handed Genevieve back the hat and the Italian girl placed it back over the right side of her face before she went to another part of the room and got a box of tissues and offered some to Kiri, which she accepted.

Both girls wiped their eyes, or in Genevieve's case, eye, and blew their noses before they threw the used tissues into the over flowing garbage pail.

"Do you know where the three of them went?" Kiri asked.

"They had an intense argument about which karaoke bar to go to earlier on the phone as Kendra waited for you at the airport. So yeah, I know where they are."

The two of them loaded into Genevieve's car before they went towards their destination. Kiri quite enjoyed the ride. It was calm, relaxing, and she didn't think she was going to die at every yellow light and turn. It was like Genevieve avoided confrontation, which Kiri liked.

When the car was finally parked outside of the respected establishment, the two of them were welcomed in, even though Kiri was only sixteen and Genevieve nineteen, and they were told where to find the three older winners.

When they found the room and opened the door to enter, they were greeted by the horrendous sound of Kendra botching up some asian song in a different language assaulting their ears. Kendra was trying her best to pronounce the words, but her lousy singing voice mixed in with not even being able to say the words right was a terrible combination. Even so, Jerry and Nelson looked like they were having the times of their lives as they were laughing so hard they were holding their stomachs.

The song ended seconds later, to which Kendra let the microphone drop out of her hands before it gave out it's static squeal upon hitting the ground.

"Alright bozos you had your fun," Kendra said to them with a cool, almost calm, demeanor with a wide smile on her face. "But now I've got something for you, Jerry. Hardware store by Weird Al Yankovic."

"Are you kidding me, Kendra?" Jerry asked. "It's fast enough as it is, but when you have to list those one hundred items you have to go so bloody fast. I mean," He then began to mockingly sing. "blahblahblahblahblahblahblah I can't waaaiiit!"

"Well I can't get Mr. Needs liquid to moisten the inside of my fake lips, to sing it, now can I?" With perfect timing, Nelson swished water around the inside of his mouth and around this teeth before swallowing it.

"You could." Jerry replied as he got off the couch and took a deep pull of beer before he took his place at the mic. "I mean, you did get him to sing some Toxic Narcotic. But then again, those songs don't last very long." A sigh occurred as Jerry placed a hand on her head. But through it, he was smiling. "God, we sound this bad on these songs now, just wait until we sing them again totally white girl wasted."

Kiri and Genevieve looked at the three older survivors and thought of how they had to deal with the grief they had felt. But they had moved on, learning to come to terms with what they had done in their own way, allowing them to function again.

Kiri could see that they still had their symptoms of P.T.S.D come out, like Kendra's reckless and aggressive driving and Nelson being ashamed of whatever happened to his face. None of them wanted to talk about their experiences within The Program.

All of them had been changed by their experiences, Kiri was sure of it. She remembered Nelson in his program, when he was violent and even more foul mouthed than Kendra. And Jerry had been a shy kid who turned radio host.

She wasn't sure what was going on inside their minds, but they were able to bounce back. And as harsh as they seemed, they wanted a better future for everyone. And Kiri thought that they actually did care about her and Genevieve. They didn't want another Clifford Rose to happen. And by showing up to karaoke, the girls had shown them that they were ready to try and turn their lives around as well.

 _I'm ready to get my life back. Kiri thought to herself. It won't be easy. But then again..._

Kiri thought of her mothers and what they had gone through for her. She thought of Brad and how he went after Rachel, fighting for her. She thought of Rachel and how neither of them abandoned one another during the final battle and after the church battle. She even thought of the enforcers, who were doing what they saw was right, despite the fact that they were risking their lives and were hated all over.

She looked at Nelson, Jerry, and Kendra, while thinking about herself, Genevieve, and Clifford. Any one of the previous could have been like the latter. Taking the easy way out by the means of suicide or wallowing in their sorrow for the rest of their lives, not wanting to take the risks of getting hurt anymore and just avoiding everything because it was easy.

Kiri watched as Jerry sang along with the quick tempo song, and seemed to have his tongue betray him loads of times, which only got Nelson and Kendra to laugh.

Jerry could have easily requested Kendra to choose a different song, or not participated in singing that song to save him the embarrassment, but that would have ruined the fun for everyone.

So like the karaoke session, they took the harder road, throwing themselves out there and biting the bullet for whatever came next. And here the three of them were, laughing, clapping, and having a genuinely good time together instead of sitting alone in their rooms sleeping or telling themselves poor poor me's.

The government declared that The Program winners would gather together every year, six months after a program's conclusion, for support and stuff because of her, Genevieve, and Clifford. Kiri hoped that there would be six at their next meeting. That she could help another survivor like the three of them helped her and Genevieve. She hoped that like them, she could contribute to the society of American, and in the end, make the Y.R.A come to an end.

But first, she had to help herself.

"You nervous?" Kiri asked Genevieve. She had never been to anything like this herself. And if she followed her schedule to the time zone on Rhode Island, Kiri was supposed to be studying before getting ready for bed. But her mind and body were jet lagged, and there was no studying to do, and she couldn't go to bed if she wanted to.

Her schedule. It was a good thing to have, but she had followed it so religiously that it became like an obsession. An obsession for safety through routine.

"Yeah." Genevieve answered honestly.

"Me too."

"You want to know what Andula used to do for me when I was nervous?"

"What?"

Genevieve then gently took Kiri's hand into one of her own. Kiri didn't fight it, it felt comforting to know that there was someone there with you. That someone was there to support you if you started to fall. And if you fell, they'd be there to help pick you up.

"When we're together, your strength becomes mine, and mine becomes yours. We are now twice the person we were before with twice the heart. With you by my side, we can do anything we want." Kiri then noticed that another tear was going down Genevieve's face. "I... When I killed her. We were holding hands, and we said this exact phrase. And... And I think... She died with a smile on her face."

 _There's a difference between doing what's right, and doing what's easy._

 **A/N: I told myself I'd only do one more chapter for the main story, and dang it, I was going to do one more chapter. So yeah, while there are some holes in some things, I think some of the unexplained things are better for the imagination.**

 **So, around 70K words long. It's short... I guess. How'd I do? Give me your thoughts.**

 **Earn your happy ending or Bittersweet ending? As Kiri has won The Program and is going to get the help and support she needs while trying to help the country, but has to live with P.T.S.D, survivor's guilt, and very occasional suicidal thoughts. People are still going to shun her and the country is still in turmoil with the Y.R.A and the youth rebellion.**

 **For all intents and purposes, the story is marked as complete, but AU chapter(s?) of Mary Grace winning will be posted soon.**

 **I may also do a side story for this fic as well, telling the story of Nelson and his experiences of the D.C riots. Because... More experimentation. If I do, it'll be after Mary Grace's AU and it'll contain many adult themes warranting an M rating.**

 **Thanks for taking part in this experiment.**


	24. AU Homecoming

Needing to calm down, and needing to practice for the oncoming swimming competition that was open to all the local high schools in the area, Mary Grace had decided to go down to one of the local swimming pools and use the pool that was open to swimmers doing laps.

She used that public pool instead of the school's because the public one was open for longer, and she wouldn't have to share a lane with as many people waiting for her. Not only that, but she needed to get away from West Shores High School, because while she was still allowed to use the school's pool, she didn't want to be there.

Sighing to herself, the athletic girl shook her head before she placed her swim goggles over her eyes, thinking about the events that lead up to the incident at school. A simple conversation in the school cafeteria.

Finding nobody by themselves or needing someone to just spend a few minutes with them, Mary Grace, obviously, choose the table that her friends were sitting at and chatted with them. Just chatted like they always did.

Mary Grace was happy that they had only let her fifteen minutes of fame not last that long, as she didn't really want to talk about her experiences in The Program. They had only asked her about what had happened to her and how she felt about certain situations for a couple of days before they respected her wishes of not wanting to talk about it anymore.

She didn't want to see the video clips of her program, as she had watched it several times because there had been things that she hadn't understood. And even after viewing it several times there were still some things that she didn't understand. And the thing that confused her the most was at the end of her program.

Why had that Japanese girl been so important to the enforcers? They didn't try to kill her like they had tried to kill her. The one in military fatigues had ran right past that girl in order to chase her and her alone. That Japanese girl only got pinned down by that other girl and was punched in the face when she tried to escape. Mary Grace was shot when she tried to escape.

Mary Grace wondered what had made them so different that the enforcers could run past her and try and kill her while running past and subduing Kiri Francis? She wanted to know the answer to that, but the government official and the police officers that had escorted her from the hospital to her home wouldn't answer that question. It frustrated her to no end and she still didn't know the answer to that.

But even though that girl was so important to the enforcers, the girl killed herself. Blew the top of her head off and discharged brown brain matter into the sky with a heavy revolver.

It saved Mary Grace's life, but she felt like she was less important than a dead person. And not a famous person like George Washington either, because she didn't even know why she was considered inferior in the eyes of the enforcers.

She wanted to ask them herself, but the most she could find out was their first names. The roster for The Program only gave out the enforcer's first names and the states they lived in, so it was like finding a needle in a haystack the size of an entire state.

So she did what she thought was best for her. She tried to not thinking about it. She tried not thinking of everything that had happened that day.

Even so, she heard the hushed whispers in the hallway at school, and even out of it, involving her and The Program didn't make it easy. Mary Grace didn't let it get to her as she thought of it as rumors and only just rumors. She didn't want to hear about them, so she blocked them out the best she could. Though she couldn't block all of it out and would overhear something that she didn't want to hear from time to time. It also didn't stop her from seeing the looks she got from some of her schoolmates either.

Still, the only ones that mattered to her were the ones that didn't constantly talk about her and The Sixth Annual Program.

It was the same with her family. They were happy to see her again, happy that she was still alive, and asked about her time in The Program even less than her friends. Except for her brothers, but they quickly learned to stop asking her about it when she harshly demanded that they not ask her questions about it. That demand involving screaming and wanting to punch their damn faces in.

It seemed that her little sister was the only one that got it the first time, but Mary Grace just told herself that her stupid little brothers were just that, stupid.

So in the two months that Mary Grace had won The Sixth Annual Program, not much had changed for her. Things continued on as normal, except that she and her family had more money in their pockets thanks to her winning The Program and people looked at her a little differently and talked about her a little more. But other than that, that was it. Her friends were understanding and that was all she really cared about for the most part. Though when she did hang with loners, they often wondered why someone like her, someone that was somewhat of a minor celebrity in their own right, want to use the time of day to be with them.

Mary Grace also didn't let the fame get to her head, as she didn't really see winning The Program something to be proud of. If anything, being in The Program just thought that the idea was even more stupid. It made her think that she should start doing something about it. So she did. She started petitions to send to the government to end the Y.R.A.

She also wanted to find someway to reduce the youth crime in California, but she couldn't think of anything that might be worth the time. But when she did think of something, she was damn sure she'd start doing it.

Mary Grace dived into the swimming pool lane that she had been assigned, feeling the glacier water wash over her entire body and make the eight bullet wounds on her torso, back, and stomach string through her one piece bathing suit.

She thought of the sequence of events that made her leave the school for the day and use the public pool instead of the school's. A simple conversation in the school cafeteria.

An older girl, Mary Grace didn't know what grade, had dumped a bowl of chili on a freshmen girl's head.

The look on the younger girl's face and the laughter of the older girl made Mary Grace's mind go back to The Sixth Annual Program. Back to her, Kiri, and the enforcers. The brown chili reminding her of Kiri's brains and the girl's laughter reminding her of how the enforcers were cruel bastards to everyone in The Program.

With her muscles tense and her teeth pressed tight, Mary Grace went up to confront the older girl.

But while she'd normally just go up to the girl and berate her behavior and demand that she say she was sorry and mean it, Mary Grace had not been in her right state of mind.

Her anger for the enforcers was burning so hot she felt like shouting. Her body so tense and ready for action it felt ready to burst. Her body was ready for a fight, ready to get shot, and was telling her that she was in danger.

Armed with a metal lunch tray, Mary Grace walked up to the older girl, and with no words being exchanged, smashed the lunch tray onto her face so hard it broke her nose. And when the girl was on the floor, cupping her now bloody nose, Mary Grace started to mercilessly kick at her and was only stopped when her friends pulled her off the other girl and brought her back to reality.

Seeing what she had done, Mary Grace was shocked with herself. A trip to the principal's office and a suspension, as well as meeting with a counselor when she returned, was more than fair to her, if not enough.

She wondered what came over her, as well as her friends. She wondered if what she experienced was what people called a flashback, like veteran soldiers with P.T.S.D had. Mary Grace hoped that she wouldn't became a mass murdering lunatic, that was for sure.

Swimming lap after lap, Mary Grace wondered why after two months it was happening now of all times. Sure she had nightmares in the beginning, but she got over them. And sure she still had memories of her experiences of The Program, but why wouldn't she? Did she think about it? Everyday. But it didn't consume her every waking moment.

She had the support of her friends and family and there was nothing wrong with her life, so why now? Sure she felt guilty about Marcos, Kiri, and Chloe especially, considering the fact that Chloe was her ally for a while and they went to the same school and she had abandoned her only for Chloe to get killed soon after.

Chloe's friends weren't as kind as everyone else, but Mary Grace couldn't blame them. And she didn't. It was her fault that Chloe died, because if she hadn't abandoned her like she had, Chloe might have had a chance. But she'd never know now, would she?

Mary Grace thought about doing what Chloe did and helping drug abusers, but as brave as she was, she didn't think she could be a good fit for that choice of work as she was much more brash and impulsive than Chloe.

But still, even with all that happened, she was still the same. Wasn't she? Mary Grace wasn't sure anymore, since she hadn't been the one to use violence to break things up before. But for the first time in her life after The Program, her first thought was of using violence to break something up.

Mary Grace hoped that she wasn't going to fall further into the darkness than she already was and kept on swimming, hoping to calm her racing, confusing thoughts and raging emotions.

As she did, she didn't notice that she had been swimming for hours. Been swimming for so long that she was the only one left in the public swimming arena. All the other swimmers had left due to closing hours.

A government official that had heard of her deed at school had watched her from a distance when she had left her school and was currently watching her swim. His current assignment was to inform her to see a therapist due to her actions and ask her if she still thought she didn't need one.

Still, he could see she was going through something difficult and decided to wait until she was ready to leave. He had all night to wait. Mary Grace's family did as well since he had phoned them and informed them of what she could be experiencing. And so did the police officers that were going to escort her home when the time came.

 **A/N: A quick and dirty AU chapter.**


End file.
